Moondance
by quizasvivamos
Summary: Vampire!Kurt & Werewolf!Blaine: Kurt has been on the run for almost a century, eventually finding himself in Lima, Ohio. While hunting in unfamiliar woods one night, Kurt comes face to face with a beautiful young boy who saves him from an even worse fate. Kurt is drawn to the boy and must battle temptation to keep from making an unforgivable mistake.
1. Prologue

**A/N:** This fic is a collaborative work written for the lovely riverance and based on her beautiful Twilight Klaine artwork. The link to her page is on my profile. Do go check out her work! It's all kinds of wonderful! :D

That being said, this is essentially a Twilight Klaine AU but with a few twists of my own. If you choose to read, I hope you enjoy the story!

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The mattress groaned under the weight of the two adolescent bodies now tangled up in each other. A heavy, but warm spring rain beat rhythmically and steadily against the siding and windows of the house, and through the blur of gray rain clouding up the narrow basement window, a minute beam of moonlight fought its way through and cast itself across the otherwise dark room.

Kurt pressed his lips gently against the warm, rough flesh of the neck of the boy beneath him. His lips parted as he scraped his teeth across his pulse point before he pierced the skin, clamping his jaw around it as a moan escaped its owner. Kurt sucked hard and drank openly, savoring the taste he had become so accustomed to, so - addicted to. When he moved his mouth away, Kurt examined the small puncture wounds, reaching his hand up to gently trace his fingertips across the bloody, broken flesh.

"I love how you taste. I will never get bored of it - or you," Kurt softly growled, licking the remaining drops of blood from his lips and teeth.

"I'm all yours, Kurt. All of me. I told you, I'll always be here for you...for as long as I can," Blaine said, reaching his hand up to cup Kurt's smooth-as-marble, alabaster cheek. Then he pulled away. Kurt's face grew stony for a moment before his expression softened, and he lowered his head by Blaine's ear.

Then Kurt placed his cold lips and tongue, warmed only by the transfer of Blaine's hot, sanguine liquid life force, against his throat and lapped gently at the thin trails of blood still escaping. A shiver ran the length of Blaine's body, and then, as Kurt watched, the wound almost suddenly began to close up, leaving behind only two faint, circular scars.

"It's remarkable, really," Kurt mused. "That we can be this close - that, 'us' is actually working."

"I never thought I would survive, and I wasn't sure I would survive you," Blaine said.

The rain continued to fall. A tense silence passed between them, and the soft puffs of their breath sounded deafening in the silent, empty house. The Hudson-Hummels had gone camping for the weekend and had left the day before, and Kurt was grateful for the privacy and his ability to convince them to allow him to stay home alone.

"I'm not going to live for eternity, not like you. If we stay together, people are going to start noticing. I don't think I can be turned, not now that I'm already, well, like I am. What is going to happen when old age takes me and -"

Kurt shushed Blaine, placing his finger against his plump lips. "Don't."

"But -"

"Don't ruin this moment, Blaine," Kurt said firmly. "It's not as if I don't already know of all your fears, I hear them every day, feel your insecurities as if they were my own. But, please, let me enjoy our time together."

Blaine looked into Kurt's serious but pleading eyes, now much brighter than they had been only moments ago, and then relaxed with a sigh. He scooted down in the bed and tucked himself in against Kurt's side, allowing Kurt to wrap a strong arm around his waist. Blaine squeezed his eyes shut tightly and tried to will away his thoughts and clear his mind.

"I almost feel human again, when I'm with you," Kurt spoke just above a whisper. "At least, I think I understand what people are talking about when they talk about love."

"Kurt," Blaine breathed.

"Yes?"

"Never mind. It's just that -

A thunderous crash sounded outside, shaking the house and its foundation. Kurt and Blaine both sat bolt upright, Blaine's heart now beating erratically.

"What was that?" Blaine asked.

"Stay down," Kurt warned, leaping up from the bed to peer out the fogged window the best he could. Then he saw them begin to materialize through the curtain of rain, and he held his breath, becoming still as a statue.

There was a blinding light, and then something came crashing through the window, shattering the glass all around Kurt who instinctively ducked and shielded his face. He whipped around to see a terrified Blaine now crouching beside the edge of the bed, his breathing labored, poised as if ready to pounce if necessary.

"Run," Kurt hissed. "Go. Now!"


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N: **I'm sure that most people understand the function of a prologue, but just to avoid confusion, the first chapter is not a continuation of the prologue. The rest of the story flashes back until it eventually leads up to the scene that takes place in the prologue and what comes after.

Thank you so much to everyone who is following and leaving me reviews on this story! I really, really hope I don't disappoint anyone!

* * *

They came out of nowhere. Before Kurt had a chance to react, he was flung to the ground and pinned by three large, heavy bodies. Gasping for air, he managed to twist around enough to fix his mouth on and sink his teeth into one of the offending limbs, and a loud yelp sounded into the open night air and through the trees.

He heard snarling and jaws snapping at the space around him as claws dug into his shoulder. He could smell them, and they smelled bitter, turning his stomach. Kurt let out a strangled yell and cursed the fact that these bloody shapeshifters chased off his dinner, giving him no time to drink and regain his strength. So he struggled against the remaining two after the one had run off to lick its wounds.

As one pressed its paw down and dug its claws into his chest, growling and spitting in his face, Kurt scrunched his nose up in disgust. "Get off of me," he managed, the pressure on his chest increasing, his ribs threatening to crack. Then he pulled back and knocked the wolf hard in the face with his fist. But it came back snapping with even more malice than before, and Kurt got a grip on its snout with both hands, clamping its mouth shut, squeezing and twisting until he heard a sickening crack.

Kurt quickly pulled himself up off the ground as the wolf, whimpering in pain, backed up, pawing pathetically at its broken jaw. But then Kurt was knocked forward with such momentum, caught off guard by the third wolf, that he fell heavily onto his hands and knees. As Kurt was cursing his carelessness, he felt a strong jaw clamp down on his arm, and teeth pierced his skin. With a groan, he twisted around and flung the wolf back a few feet, giving himself enough time to regain his footing.

It crouched down, snarling and circling him, and Kurt stared the wolf down. Then, swiftly, the wolf pounced, and Kurt caught him around the middle, wrestling him to the ground. They struggled, rolling over and over, until the wolf was on top, but Kurt held on tightly to its middle, maintaining the upper hand. All it would take was a bit more force, and Kurt could tear the creature in two. But when the wolf fixed its murderous green eyes on Kurt's, over the sound of the wolf's labored panting, Kurt began to hear the creature's thoughts.

_"You can't be here."_

The wolf's gaze intensified as Kurt listened and held on.

_"These are our woods." _

The wounded one barked as if rallying behind the other.

_"Your kind is not welcomed here." _

"I didn't know - didn't know that land could - oomph - belong to anyone." The wolf's ears perked up at Kurt's response. It was Kurt's turn to snarl as the werewolf grabbed his face in his paw of a hand, making no point to be gentle in the slightest. As he forced Kurt's head to the side, Kurt caught a whiff of something unusual and froze.

_"Listen, you bloodsucker -" _

But Kurt never heard what the creature was about to say because a loud pop and explosion sounded off in the distance, and then Kurt heard it, what he was sure was a bullet, whizzing and spiraling through the trees right before making contact with the wolf on top of him, throwing him to the side and freeing Kurt.

The two wounded wolves whipped around, regrouped, and began to pad off away from the source of the pain before their luck could take a turn for the worse.

Kurt scrambled to his feet and was quick to climb the nearest tree, leaping up into one of the lower branches. Normally, he would have run, but his lingering hunger and this new source of intrigue kept him rooted to the spot.

Kurt's guess was that it was a hunter, but he didn't think it was the kind who actually knew about his kind or werewolves and could cause any actual collateral damage. He remained perched up in the tree until he heard the crunching of leaves, the soft snapping of twigs, the padding of boots atop the firm soil, drawing ever nearer until he could make out the silhouette of the man - no, it was a boy with such a small, slender, fragile frame.

The boy stepped into a space in the trees where the moonlight cut through, illuminating his face, but that wasn't what caught Kurt's attention first: it was the same heady scent now overwhelming his senses - his _blood_ - like a sweet spice, a luscious fruit, and something else he couldn't quite place. It was how someone might describe a fine wine, yet even more intoxicating. His throat burned and his mouth began to water, venom flowing as he closed his eyes and inhaled the aroma.

Kurt emitted an involuntary sigh of pleasure before he could catch himself, and the boy turned quickly at the sound, aiming the barrel of his rifle into the tree.

"Who's there?" a deep but soft tenor called out in a trembling voice.

Kurt could see his round, fearful eyes, and he honed in on the sound of his quickening heartbeat. It was calling to him. So close. He was so close. Kurt licked his lips. But he didn't answer.

The boy took a step toward the tree, and Kurt heard the steady flow of thoughts racing through the boy's mind. He was just a boy, maybe fifteen or sixteen, lived not too far off from here on a reservation. He wasn't here to kill, just to chase away predators from his family's livestock. Predators like Kurt. But Kurt wouldn't touch anything fenced-in - he wasn't a thief -, he had strictly developed a taste for venison and sometimes, when he was lucky enough to find one, bobcat.

But here was a boy, fresh flesh, enticing him, intoxicating him, and he could take him in one swoop and be satiated. But he couldn't. He had sworn off humans many years ago, and he couldn't give into temptation. After all, that was the reason he had come out here to hunt in the first place, even though this wasn't his usual spot. He had almost bitten someone. His brother.

Finn, clumsy as he is, had fallen and scraped his arm while playing a pickup game of basketball with some friends earlier that day, and when he had returned home, Kurt had almost lost control at the smell of the blood.

It was close, too close, so he exiled himself into the woods. And that's how he found himself here, staring down at the boy, tantalized, and still excruciatingly thirsty.

But he wouldn't get what he wanted unless he played nicely, so Kurt mustered up the sweetest tone he could force at a time like this and spoke, destroying the silence.

"Hey, kid," he said, feigning fear of his own, "thank you so much for scaring those things away. They almost had me."

"Oh," the boy squinted and looked up through the trees toward the source of the sound. Hearing a masculine but soft, sweet voice, he lowered his rifle, pointing it downward.

Kurt slid gracefully out of the tree and landed almost weightlessly on the ground. "Are you all right?" the boy asked, and Kurt knew he was genuinely concerned and convinced of Kurt's humanness and harmlessness.

"Yeah, I'm okay. Like I said, you scared them off - pretty good shot, actually -"

"Thanks -"

And then the boy's scent hit his nose again, and Kurt clenched his fists and held his breath. He needed something to distract him, quickly, so he asked: "What's your name?"

"Blaine. Blaine Anderson. I live on the reservation about two miles west of here," he said. Kurt just nodded along to this already known information.

"I'm Kurt." He stepped forward but then thought better of it, snapping his jaw shut tight.

"Are you lost? I can guide you out of here if you'd like," Blaine offered.

Kurt shook his head. "No, I'm good, but thank you. I can take it from here."

"Are you sure? What if they come back? What if -"

"I'm sure," Kurt nearly shouted, his frustration beginning to peak.

Blaine stepped back, and his eyes grew worried.

"I'm sorry. I'm just - hungry. I get cranky when I haven't eaten." At least he wasn't lying. Kurt wasn't sure what compelled him to apologize...or why he was still standing there.

"Okay," Blaine said softly. Kurt knew that Blaine was about to ask what he was even doing there in the first place, so he cut in before Blaine could open his mouth again.

"I've gotta go." And he spun around and began to jog away, breaking into a much quicker run once he was sure he was out of Blaine's sight. He needed to find food, and then he needed to get home as soon as possible before anyone noticed he was missing.

He wondered if maybe he shouldn't have left the boy behind. He was prime meat for the werewolves, and they could come back at any minute if he wasn't smart enough to vacate the Kurt knew that even if the boy had gone home, the werewolves could track his scent easily enough if they were really revenge was certainly not beneath brutes like themselves.

Right before the edge of the woods, Kurt heard a rustling, stopped, and stood dead still, his gaze piercing through the underbrush. A hare. It wasn't much and it wasn't ideal, but he was starved, so it would have to do. It conveniently hopped right up to his feet, sniffing at the cool, autumn air, and Kurt lunged, snatching it up in his grip and snapping its neck within mere seconds. He was sure it hadn't felt a thing. He brought the limp, lifeless form to his mouth and sank his teeth into the nape of its neck and drank. The warm liquid was just enough to sate his thirst, but he knew he would need to feed again sooner than usual.

Once the carcass was completely drained, Kurt tossed the hare to the side and wiped his mouth with the back of his wrist, inhaling deeply. He had about fifteen minutes to get back home before curfew, and he didn't want to upset his adoptive parents. It wasn't like many would take in a boy his age, at seventeen, and with all the eccentricities he possessed, so all he ever wanted was to keep the peace in the household. Abiding by their rules would help. He was grateful for their protection, even if they weren't aware of just how they were protecting him or what exactly they were protecting.

When he reached the walk in front of the Hudson-Hummel house, he casually made his way to the steps and pushed the door open. The low hum of the television was interrupted by a soft cough, and, hearing the familiar music, Kurt knew that Burt and Carole were finishing up an episode of CSI, both on the edge of sleep. He tip-toed across the hardwood, but Burt sat up and spotted him, causing him to freeze in his tracks.

"Hey, kiddo," Burt said through a yawn, rising from the couch. "I thought you had already gone to bed."

"I had, but then I - I got thirsty," Kurt said.

"Well, Carole and I are about to hit the hay," he said, scratching his stomach through his flannel shirt. "Hurry up and get back to bed, would ya? Wouldn't want you to be tired for school tomorrow."

"Yeah. I will. But I - I also forgot Finn's warm milk," Kurt added for good measure.

Burt laughed quietly and shook his head. "Alright. Your brother doesn't know how good he has it, I bet. Warm milk..." Burt repeated, continuing to shake his head, his voice trailing off as Carole rose from the couch and began to follow Burt up the stairs to their room. The steps creaked all the way up, and Kurt listened until he heard the bedroom door shut.

Kurt swallowed hard. Yeah, Finn was lucky alright. Didn't know how good he had it, but only because of the near miss that could have turned the night into a catastrophe - but hadn't.

He descended the stairs into the shared basement bedroom and was greeted by the sound of Finn's soft, rumbling snores. Careful not to wake him, Kurt stripped down out of his clothing from the evening, and shoved them down into the bottom of his laundry basket. He pulled on a set of pajamas, and slipped into his bed positioned across the room from Finn's.

This was always the part where he would close his eyes and pretend, pretend that he remembered what it felt like to be human, to feel exhaustion, to sleep. Pretend that he remembered how it felt to dream. He conjured up images in his mind from the day, the earliest to the most recent, until the face of the boy he met in the woods, Blaine, rose to the forefront and stayed there.

Kurt breathed in again as if he could still smell him, but all his nose caught was the musky, salty scent of his brother mixed with a hint of copper, and his face scrunched up. Then he lost the image and let out a low sigh. He rolled over and pulled the blanket up over his head, attempting to shut out the other sounds and thoughts now coming from across the room.


	3. Chapter 2

His fingers caressed the smooth, cool, ivory keys, a familiar sensation, and Kurt shifted his weight on the bench, leaning forward, his other hand claiming the left side of the set of piano keys. He let them fall in succession; it was so much second-nature to him that his fingers seemed to move of their own accord, dancing in measured patterns from memory.

The melody filled the empty choir room, and he closed his eyes as he allowed himself to get lost in the music.

_The door creaked open and closed every few minutes, inviting in the warm, sweet, humid evening air that blew in off the Mississippi._

_The loose rhythms and note progressions flew freely through the dimly-lit bar as glasses clinked and people chattered in the background. Clouds of smoke hovered beneath the bulbs in the hanging lamps._

_"Where'd you learn to play like that, boy?"_

_Kurt never answered the questions of the often drunken patrons until he was completely through a song. He played the final few notes and then turned in his seat on the piano bench, blinking twice at the man before responding._

_"My mother."_

_Upstairs, girls danced for adulterous men and hungry and desperate forever-singles. The sounds down below drowned out the noises of the other festivities and favors supplied by the ladies of the night._

_"Why don't you play something current? That tune's about twenty years old," the man said._

_"I play what I feel," Kurt answered simply._

_"It's the forties, son. People are playin' the blues now, and you're still holding on to that old-time jazz."_

_"Jazz never died," Kurt said firmly. "I'll play what I want until I no longer feel the music in my soul."_

_The man scoffed and sent a dismissive gesture in Kurt's direction before traipsing away and recovering his seat at the bar._

_Throughout the night, crowds filled The French Quarter, filtering in and out of the bars and nightclubs. Every now and then, a stranger would drop some change Kurt's way for a tune before stumbling off into the throng of careless, god-forsaking individuals._

Kurt suddenly sensed someone in the room and opened his eyes, freezing in place. His hands fell away from the keys. A bearded, middle-aged man with glasses was peering on at him, and Kurt swiftly stood up, replaced the cover on the keys, and rushed out of the room without a word.

He didn't care that the man had actually been admiring his skill and wanted him to go on. He was a private individual, never wanting to draw attention to himself, and he only snuck in here when he knew no one was using the room. Apparently that man seemed to have had the same idea as he had.

His abandoned books stayed in his locker just like every other evening as he passed it by and made his way out of the building. There was nothing in a history book that was new to him anymore, no bit of fiction or poetry he hadn't read. He had lived through most of it. By this point, he had lost count of how many times he graduated high school, having the knowledge he needed now cemented in his mind. Occasionally, Kurt would take a few college courses before moving on, but he could never stay in one place for very long.

Once out in the nearly empty student lot, he climbed into the Escalade Burt had given him last year on his birthday, sparked the engine to life, and pulled out onto the road, rolling away past the football field and away from the school. He turned the corner and found himself taking a detour he had taken time and time again, traveling past miles of corn fields, passing through a few small towns, until he reached a secluded area and pulled off onto the dirt by the side of the road.

The sun was setting as Kurt strolled through the gate of the state park and over to the edge of the lake. He lowered himself onto a large, flat rock that he had discovered on one of the many occasions he found himself here and gazed out over the water. A thin misty fog began to fall upon the water, and Kurt placed his head in his hand.

_A thick fog hung heavy over the bay, almost completely concealing the Golden Gate Bridge and making it appear to cut off midway into a cloud of nothing. The bus rumbled along the concrete-paved, red steel beams, and lines of Beat poetry and The Beatles intermingled, clashed, and echoed in Kurt's head while pungent, herbal smoke filled the air._

_He had taken the trip across the country, leaving the streets of New York City behind once again, but this time, venturing the distance to the West coast._

_Haight-Ashbury. He had heard so much about the place, about the revolution taking place there. The counterculture that was rising up, the general atmosphere that was so different from anything he had experienced before._

_And he got wrapped up in it, the fashion, the art, the music, and, most of all, the acceptance and freedom of expression and the way the community embraced the outcasts of the world._

_It was the first place that he felt secure. It was the first place he risked discovery by staying just a little too long. It was the first place he fell in love._

_His name was Thomas, and Kurt almost completely forgot himself when in his presence. They would spend many a night in each others' company at his cramped, rustic studio apartment, deep in discussion that stretched into the early hours of the morning. Kurt loved to watch Thomas talk. He would talk about religion, politics, the war...and drugs. He really liked to talk about drugs._

_Kurt could sit for hours and watch his lips move, pronouncing every syllable, could listen to his speech patterns alternating between a Kentucky drawl and one of a more hip and chill, West-coast persona he had taken up after leaving home. And Kurt never got bored._

_The needle scraped along the vinyl, set in the worn-in groove as the record continued to spin on its table. Van Morrison tempted them, inviting them to rise to their feet. Thomas wrapped his arms around Kurt's waist while Kurt, hesitant at first, threw his arms around the back of his neck._

_It was all so new to Kurt, so foreign, like tasting forbidden fruit. But he knew he liked it. And they swayed in time, bodies close, twirling across the dusty floor. Thomas dipped Kurt at the opportune moment and then brought him back up to the sound of their soft giggles._

_"You're always so cold, Kurt," Thomas said as he held him. "It really worries me sometimes."_

_"You never have to worry about me. I'm okay," Kurt said, but the longer he stared into Thomas's eyes and breathed in his air, the more he knew that he was anything but okay. He was so enamored, head over heels in love with him. At least, he thought that's what this feeling was. And then Thomas leaned in and kissed Kurt, just a gentle kiss on the lips, and a big, neon danger sign lit up behind Kurt's eyes._

_As their relationship progressed, there were moments when Kurt had begun to feel weak and craved the man in a way he had never known before. One night, painfully thirsty, he very nearly took the sleeping man._

_Thomas was in his thirties, but he didn't care that Kurt was only seventeen. He would tell him that it never felt like talking and being with a child. That Kurt possessed a wisdom beyond his years._

_One still night, the police broke down Thomas's door, practically dragging him out into the street. Kurt panicked and, judgment clouded by his attachment to the man, almost intervened, but he had had enough experience in the past with the law that he decided to let things happen, knowing that it wasn't worth causing more trouble. There was nothing he could really do; Thomas had damned himself. Draft dodgers never won._

_The Vietnam War eventually ended. Kurt never found out what happened to Thomas, but he gathered up his few belongings, fled back East, and never returned to the West coast._

Rain began to fall over the lake, and a fish jumped up into the air, breaking the surface and causing a plunking splash on the way back down. Kurt lifted and shook his head, but then another sound caught his attention, and he whipped around. A howl rose up into the air from off in the distance, and Kurt closed his eyes to listen.

An answering howl sounded from the direction of the reservation.

_The reservation. Where Blaine lives._

Had he really been that foolish? Kurt felt his anger building as it suddenly occurred to him how close he was and had been every time he had escaped to this very spot. On countless occasions, he had found sanctuary amongst the trees and a peaceful calm beside the lake, completely unaware of the bright-eyed adolescent that taunted his senses. Could that be the reason he felt drawn here in the first place?

Kurt hastily rose from his perch on the rock, refusing to give thought to that question. But he could not change the fact that he was now aware of his transgression, and, flustered, he wished that he could have remained ignorant. This part of his life was now marred by the knowledge of Blaine's existence, with his incredibly sweet-smelling blood that seemed to summon the demon within him. The demon that Kurt had been fighting so hard to keep at bay for so many years.

Kurt wasn't foolish enough to wait around. What would keep the werewolves from stepping out of the bounds of their woods and seeking him out? He returned to his car, vowing to never set foot near here again.

The moon glowed bright in the sky, and Kurt pressed down harder on the gas pedal, determined to make it back without another run in with the murderous mutts.

While driving back to the house, Kurt's attention drifted back to the strange day dreams he seemed to be entering more often than he had in the past, and he wondered what could possibly be triggering them. Was the Midwest too quiet? Did his idle mind need something else?

He never imagined he would find himself in Lima, Ohio, and, if he had it his way, he would be gone in the blink of an eye. He could feel it in him that he wouldn't last much longer here.

Kurt rolled up to the house, switching on the blinker to pull into the driveway when he spotted Finn shooting at the old hoop hanging above the garage door. Kurt watched Finn play for a moment as he idled there in the road. While dribbling, Finn dropped the basketball and chased after it. When he bent down to retrieve it, he turned and noticed Kurt. He quickly moved off the blacktop and out of the way, stepping onto the lawn so Kurt could park the car.

With a sigh, Kurt pulled into the garage, parked, and climbed out of the Escalade. He was met with a dopey grin on the face of the boy who, despite having no blood relation, he had grown quite fond of, the boy he had taken to calling his brother over the past two years.

"Hey, Kurt," Finn greeted him. He tossed the ball between his hands, looking to Kurt with a question in his eyes. Kurt smiled in response, and Finn passed the ball to him which he caught with ease. Kurt bounced it off the driveway a few times before taking a shot at the hoop and missing.

They both laughed as the ball bounced back, and Finn grabbed it up again, turning to Kurt with a shrug.

"Sorry, Finn. I guess basketball just isn't my thing," Kurt said.

"It's alright. I think Puck is probably online by now. We were gonna play some Call of Duty." Kurt knew that Finn was about to ask him if he wanted to play too, but video games were definitely something he had never gotten the hang of, nor did he understand the appeal.

"I'll have to pass tonight," Kurt replied preemptively.

Finn laughed. "I think I managed to talk you into playing like once, Kurt. I get that you have different interests. It's not a big deal."

Finn entered the garage, and Kurt followed, closing the door behind them. He set the ball down on the shelf, and they made their way into the house for the evening.

Although Kurt knew that Lima wasn't where he belonged, it did feel a bit like home. For now. Leaving was an inevitability for him, always, but right now he was okay, remembering the reasons for hanging around if only for a couple more years.


	4. Chapter 3

Blaine couldn't believe what was happening to him.

It was barely a week ago that he had first felt it, the curiously intense need to enter the forest surrounding his home. He was no stranger to these woods, having accompanied his father on numerous trips into them during the early years of his life, but whatever had been pulling him in recently was like nothing he'd experienced before. On more than one occasion, Blaine felt like some outside force was beckoning him. The impulse continued to grow stronger, and Blaine could feel his resolve weakening with each passing day.

And if this new temptation weren't enough to raise red flags in his head, Blaine was certain that he was being followed. The hairs on the back of his neck seemed to stand on end every time he stepped outside his house, sensing eyes on him. And just the other night, he'd seen dark figures, large like bears, stalking through the woods, casting shadows on the walls of his cottage when the moon was bright. He tried to make himself believe that it was just a trick of the light, but he could only fool himself for so long.

Blaine knew there was something out there.

He had been lying on his bed, trying to will himself to sleep when he heard a disturbance in the woods. Actually, he had _felt_ the disturbance, but believing that to be impossible, he had dismissed the idea and pulled on his boots. Once he loaded his rifle, he wandered out into the darkness, prepared for anything.

It wasn't long before he had encountered the wolves, having heard what was unmistakably a human voice crying out in anguish. Through the trees, he'd seen someone pinned down by one wolf, while another skulked nearby, watching but not engaging. Intent on chasing them away, Blaine had taken careful aim and shot the one wolf, hitting it in the shoulder and sending it running, and rescued that mysterious boy in the process. As he had watched the wolves retreat, Blaine knew he would have to remain alert for their return, prepared to finish the job, if only to keep his livestock safe.

He had been concerned about the boy - Kurt -, although he was somehow seemingly unharmed, but then he took off so abruptly, leaving Blaine stunned. The woods now calm, Blaine had turned around to head back home.

As he had trudged along the familiar beaten trail, he still felt like he should be heading in the opposite direction, like he had unfinished business, and he pivoted back around, retracing his steps for a few paces until he stopped, shook his head, and realized he was being ridiculous. The next thing he knew, his rifle had been ripped away from him, and one of the wolves had tackled him to the ground, knocking the wind right out of him.

He had laid there, trapped under its weight, gasping for air.

It had sniffed at his chest, neck, and face, blowing rapid puffs of hot air against his skin. Blaine had felt the hair stand up on the back of his neck, and then an enormous paw came up and swatted him across the face, knocking his head to the side as claws dug into his flesh, causing him to cry out. He could feel his own warm blood begin to trickle down his cheek from the superficial gashes that, nonetheless, stung immensely.

Blaine had been certain that he was going to die.

He had closed his eyes and braced himself, wishing the beast would be quick, wondering why it was taking its time, having only scratched him, an action with no intent to kill. But then the wolf growled in his ear, and he heard a low voice in his head that seemed to answer his thoughts and chilled his blood.

_"That's for the hunk of metal you buried in my back."_

The wolf had been looking straight into his eyes with eyes too human to belong to an animal, eyes too wise to be wild. Blaine's body spasmed as the wolf pushed his shirt up with its snout, and a tongue licked up his already quaking torso, tracing the ridges of his ribcage.

"W-what the hell are you?" he had stuttered, gasping for air. In the midst of all his uncertainty, one thing he was sure of was that it could understand everything he was saying. The thing had been inside his head, and he'd thought he was going mad.

_"I'm exactly what you think I am."_

"Werewolf," he'd spoken just above a whisper. It was the only thing that made sense to him, and, yet, it had made no sense at all.

_"More or less, yes. We've been watching you...I know what you are."_

He'd sniffed near Blaine's ear again, sending more chills through his body and causing him to shudder.

_"You're one of us."_

"What do you m-mean?" Blaine continued to stammer.

_"A shapeshifter. Funny how I hadn't figured it out sooner."_

When Blaine had registered the beast's words, he let out a strangled yell, his adrenaline pumping and anger building at how helpless he felt in the situation. His body grew uncomfortably hot as his anger surged through him.

_"I can sense that you're alone. We can offer you protection. We have a place for you."_

"No! Please just let me go!" He writhed underneath the bulk of its body, but it was no use.

_"It runs through your veins. Because of what happened tonight, you're going to shift. There's no fighting it."_

The Alpha wolf had barked and then let out a low growl-like howl.

But before Blaine could respond, he felt like he had been bludgeoned over the head with something sharp and heavy. Then he realized that the pain had been coming from inside himself, like a tattoo beating against the inside of his skull. It had felt like his bones were shifting and growing, threatening to break through his skin, but his skin grew thicker, and dark, chocolate-colored hair had begun to sprout on the exposed areas he could see.

His heart pumped rapidly, and his chest rose and fell painfully. He had screamed, closing his eyes tightly, seeing only a blinding white behind his lids, but the scream had come out something unrecognizable. Disoriented, he had pushed himself up from the ground, and registered the claws that had once been fingernails, but then his entire world turned dark.

When Blaine came to, he was lying on his side, sprawled out in the dirt. When he breathed, his lungs were on fire, and his entire body ached. He slowly reached up and touched the spot on his face where the flesh had been torn and winced but then gasped when he didn't feel any pain.

With some difficulty, Blaine rose from the ground, feeling lightheaded for a moment. But he was fine, right? He was alive.

Somehow he made it home. After peeling off his tattered clothing, he climbed into the shower and scrubbed all of the dirt from his skin and hair.

When Blaine got out and toweled off the fogged-up mirror, he noticed that the marks were completely gone from his cheek. Suddenly, the previous night's events began to replay in his head. He heard a jumble of voices, remembering how he had been attacked. Was he attacked? By wolves - werewolves. There was a moment of pure panic, and Blaine turned away from the mirror, holding his head between his hands.

He couldn't believe this was happening to him.

He was one of them. He had shifted. Had they turned him?

Blaine tried to push the idea from his thoughts as he went about his day, but then he began to notice little things about himself that made it impossible to ignore any longer. Everything he ate throughout the day tasted different than usual, stronger or something, and his sense of smell seemed more acute, so much so that he gagged from a mildew smell in the bathroom he had never noticed before.

His appetite was also considerably different, and he began to have weird cravings for things that weren't really part of his diet before.

As the week passed, Blaine began to worry and ponder what exactly it all meant.

One thing was certain, he wanted answers, and knew he wouldn't find them if he remained cooped up in his home. He didn't know if he would shift again, and, if so, when.

When night fell, Blaine wandered back out into the woods, retracing his steps back to the place he had found the wolves and the beautiful, elusive boy he couldn't get out of his head. That boy had been attacked too, he remembered. Had he been okay?

But when Blaine reached the small clearing, much to his dismay, he found nothing. He wasn't even sure what he was hoping to find. It was calm, and there were no wolves to be seen. But then a chill ran the length of his spine, causing goosebumps to rise on his skin. Blaine was terrified. He had changed. Something had happened to him, and now he was alone again. He braced himself, balling his hands into firm fists at his sides and biting the inside of his mouth before venturing farther into the woods.

He was determined to find those wolves. He had no other choice.

After hours of wandering without a destination, Blaine began to pick up a scent, and his ears perked up as he heard what he thought were people coming toward him - two to be exact.

Sure enough, two young men came into view, and Blaine stood firmly, planted to the spot. Then the one spotted him and called over.

"You, there," the taller, thinner man said. "We were wondering when you would finally come back." He grinned a crooked, toothy, almost flawless grin.

The other slightly stocky, more muscular man added, "You put up quite the fight the other night."

"Huh?" Blaine said, stepping back now. What were they talking about? He had never seen these men in his life.

"It was only a matter of time before you lost it," the taller one said.

Then Blaine caught a whiff of something familiar as he gazed into the man's piercing green eyes which were filled with utter amusement. No, it couldn't be. But it must be...

"You - you turned me," Blaine said, his brow furrowed and fists at his sides, prepared to defend himself if he had to.

"Oh, no, sweetheart, that's where you're mistaken," he said. "I didn't turn you. You were triggered by the filthy parasite."

"What? Who are you?"

"Of course. I apologize. How could I be so rude? I'm Sebastian, the one who took your bullet," he pointed behind him, "this is Hunter, and absent is Wes who - oh you didn't have the honor of meeting Wes. He's still being a pussy about being bitten by the vampire and decided to lie low."

"Vampire?" Blaine echoed in confusion.

"Did I stutter?" Sebastian quipped.

"B-but I -"

Sebastian and Hunter began to laugh cruelly.

Then the one named Hunter asked, "What's your name?"

"I'm Blaine."

"Okay, Blaine," Sebastian began. "Well it turns out that you're one of us, one of our tribe, and that leaves you with one option. I strongly suggest that you come with us. Your potential is going to waste, and it's doing no one any good for you to be putzing about in that little shack. You're one of the chosen ones, a guardian of the forest and of people. It is our duty to protect the area from the cold ones, the vampires," he added after noticing Blaine's confusion.

"But I've never seen a vampire in my life," Blaine said.

Sebastian laughed again. "Oh, honey, you have a lot to learn. I can tell you don't get out much." Then he walked forward and placed a hand on Blaine's shoulder. "What do you say, though? We need you in our pack. Not that I'm even giving you a choice."

"I - I'm a guardian?" Blaine asked. "I get to help people?" It was all too much to process in the moment, but it resonated with Blaine when Sebastian spoke of being a protector.

"Yes. So I assume that's a yes?"

"Yeah, I guess. I mean, yes."

"Good. And to clear up your confusion, there was a vampire in the woods that night, and that's what triggered your phasing. I almost had the little bastard too."

"But I thought you attacked me -?"

"Oh, I did," Sebastian grinned and licked his lips. "You did shoot me, after all, but that's not how it works. We're shapeshifters, not Children of the Moon. They're pathetic loners with little to no control over themselves. We're powerful and have a duty - they are destructive and useless."

"Okay," Blaine began slowly. He swallowed and shifted from one foot to the other. "What do I have to do?"

"Come with us. We'll show you where we congregate, and you'll be introduced to Wes and the others in a more formal way. We'll teach you everything you need to know about our kind, our tribe, and how to gain control over yourself."

"Am I dangerous?" Blaine asked quietly. He had no real recollection of what had happened after he shifted, and he had a lingering fear that he could cause someone harm. And possibly already had.

"Oh, no, not at all. Unless, of course, a vampire happens to cross your path, and then he'll most likely have a very bad day. But no more talk here. We're safer at Dalton."

"Dalton?"

"We've gotten clever over the years. It's our base, but it's under the guise of a very exclusive all-boys private school called Dalton Academy. If anyone ever took the time to investigate, they might realize that we're actually twenty-five-year-olds posing as sixteen and seventeen-year-olds, and there are no actual teachers or lessons." Sebastian let out a low laugh as if it were an inside joke.

"Well, lead the way then," Blaine said, feeling a little bolder. He had never wandered very far from the reservation, but he decide to trust these men who claimed to be members of his tribe. The fear he had been feeling earlier had dissipated, and he felt a sort of unnatural calm in their presence.

Blaine followed the other two for quite some time, wondering when they would finally arrive at Dalton. Once they cut through another grove of trees, they came out to a perfectly manicured green lawn that led up to a three-story brick building. It looked like a school to Blaine, and if they hadn't told him the truth, he would have never known. The French-Colonial architecture definitely screamed stuffy private school, but when the front doors opened and they stepped through into the foyer, Blaine gasped. Standing before him was a small assembly of six more hulking young men.

Sebastian stepped forward to join them, assuming his position at the head of the pack, and then turned around to face Blaine.

"Welcome to the distinguished halls of Dalton Academy," he said gesturing around the room. "Everyone, this is Blaine. He'll be joining us."

One of the young men nodded at Blaine. "We've heard about you. No worries. You'll fit right in."

"Yeah. We're a great group," a blond added. "The name's Jeff," he pointed to the brunet beside him, "and that's Nick." They smiled friendly smiles, and Blaine smiled back, although still a bit uneasy.

Then Sebastian stepped forward, wrapped his arm around Blaine's shoulder, and pulled him in against his side and into the group. "Blaine here just began phasing, so be nice to him. We're gonna need to teach him everything we know." He motioned to a round-faced man whose eyes lit up, and then he stepped toward Blaine.

"I'm Trent. I'll be helping you out while you're here and teaching you the basics of controlling your shifting." He was probably the least threatening of the group.

"Hey," Blaine said, and he suddenly felt very self-conscious. All eyes were on him, scrutinizing, sizing him up. The group was even more intimidating because almost all of them seemed to be at least six feet tall and towered over Blaine.

"And this is the aforementioned Wes," Sebastian said, pointing out a raven-haired guy, and it clicked in Blaine's head. This was the 'pussy', as Sebastian had put it. But he didn't look weak to Blaine. He seemed to have the same air of authority about him as Sebastian, but it was obvious that Sebastian was in charge.

"Allow me to tell you about our history - but let's go sit in the common room, it's more comfortable," Wes spoke and then gestured for the others to follow him.

Blaine followed them into a wood-paneled room, the center of which was furnished with large, squishy brown leather chairs and couches. They all filed in and seemed to take assigned seats as if by order of command.

Blaine glanced around, his eyes following Sebastian, Wes, and Hunter, and that's when he noticed a long table situated along the one wall.

Blaine took a seat. "Is this like a cult?" He spoke without thinking and immediately regretted it.

Wes looked at him curiously, but then sat in one of the chairs behind the table at the head of the room. "No, not a cult. We're a brotherhood here." He folded his hands on the tabletop. "Listen, Blaine. We understand that you've been living on the reservation alone for years now. Our people, the Quileute have been scattered across the continent over the past few decades. Many have left the tribe and established lives away from the rest, believing that they could escape their fate."

"But I'm Shawnee...there must be some mistake," Blaine insisted. He had no idea who the Quileute were. They certainly weren't native to Ohio.

"Is that what your parents told you?" Sebastian laughed and rolled his eyes.

"There's no mistake, Blaine. It was our ancestors who first merged with the spirit of the wolf to protect humans from the cold ones. You are a descendant of the wolf as well, and we are family. There's no other explanation for why we could track you down and why you shifted. But now that the cold ones have reappeared in the area, it is vital that we stick together. We don't know if it's just the one or if there are more, and we need to be prepared."

"And I'm going to learn to control myself? Can I keep myself from shifting?" Blaine asked.

"Yes, but you will continue to shift as long as the cold ones still remain a threat. That is, until we destroy every last one of them," Sebastian said with a smirk.

"So now you know, Blaine. Let me know that you understand," Wes said.

"Yes. I understand."

"Good."

There was some chatter around the room as the others began to rise from their seats.

Trent turned to Blaine, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Now let's go work on control," he said with a genial smile.

Blaine was glad to be getting away from the rest of the pack. He rose from his seat and followed Trent out of the room, up a spiral staircase, and into a study, closing the door behind them.

Trent exhaled and turned to Blaine. "I hope they didn't scare you too much."

"No, not really. It's just a lot to take in."

"Yeah, it is. So - let me give you a heads up."

"Okay," Blaine said automatically.

"Not everyone in the pack agrees with Sebastian and Hunter. They are the Alpha and the Beta, and we all follow them, but we don't exactly _follow_ them, if you catch my meaning. We just keep the peace because that's what we really want, peace. Not all of us are out to destroy the vampires like we're supposedly meant to. Many of us are for peaceful co-existence unless actually provoked, you know? We haven't even heard of any humans being attacked recently."

"That makes sense," Blaine said. He decided that Trent was the most level-headed of the pack - and the sweetest. He was relieved and happy knowing that Trent would be his mentor rather than one of the others.

"You seem like a smart kid," Trent said. Then he cleared his throat. "So, I'm going to tell you something else, and I want you to really think about it. I will teach you how to control yourself, but I want you to understand the importance of having control over your shifting. You have a choice, Blaine. You can't escape this fate, it's true, because it's in your blood. But you can make the decision to continue shifting, to hunt, and to continue hunting for eternity," he explained.

"There's another choice?" Blaine asked.

"You could choose to stop shifting. But if you choose to do so, you will continue to age like a human. You will be mortal, and you will inevitably die."

"I never thought I had any other choice but that," Blaine said in a small voice.

"You do. Just don't ever let anyone make that choice for you. That's all."

Blaine stood there deep in contemplation for a few moments, wondering why Trent felt so compelled to tell him all of this. After some thought, he realized just how admirable it was of Trent, and a grin tugged at the corners of his mouth.

"Thank you, Trent," Blaine said. "Is it weird if I say that I like you?"

Trent laughed jovially. "It's not weird. I'm kind of the resident softy. I'm not like the others. I hear their jokes about me, the pushover Omega. It's hard enough to not fit in anywhere else, so I do what I can here." He paused. "And I like you, too, Blaine. You seem like a good guy."

"Thanks." He found himself beaming. "Um, Trent? Are Sebastian and the others really as bad as they seem?"

"Sometimes. We're supposed to be a brotherhood, but the pack mentality tends to get in the way, and the power goes to their heads," Trent said. "Don't be afraid of them though. You seem to have some fire in you, like you could stand up to them if need be. C'mon, let's go unlock your potential," Trent said with a wink. "I've wasted enough time."

Blaine wouldn't necessarily say that their time spent talking was wasted, but he nodded and listened to Trent as he began the lesson. He had learned an incredible amount already, and it seemed like he had so much more to learn.


	5. Chapter 4

It had been about a month since Kurt set foot in those forbidden woods, but he couldn't shake the guilt he was feeling about leaving that Blaine boy there alone. And if he was being honest with himself, he couldn't shake the strange attraction he was feeling toward him.

Sure, it could have just been his extreme thirst that he was confusing for attraction, but that didn't explain his inability to get those bright, hazel eyes, dark curls, and - his _scent_ - out of his head even after he fed. And still.

So, the first moment Kurt got on a lazy Saturday afternoon, he slipped out of the house and cautiously wandered back into the woods toward the spot of their first encounter, all the while following the scent of the boy. He had broken the promise to himself. He knew it wasn't a good idea, but he had made worse decisions. The hunger just to see the boy was clouding his judgment and testing all of his self-control.

The sun was still high in the sky, but Kurt kept moving through the shade of the gently swaying trees, retracing his steps from before until he came to the same clearing. The ground looked like it had never been disturbed, but he pivoted around until he was facing the direction from which Blaine had appeared the first time. There, he caught sight of a pathway and began to follow it.

It led him out toward a field, surrounded by only a weak, makeshift fence which he easily leaped and then cut through the tall grasses on the other side. Off in the distance, he spotted a cottage that looked a little run-down and out of place, and he quickened his pace, eager to get there to see who was inside, hopefully alive and well.

But it didn't take long before he smelled it, the familiar scent of Blaine lingered all over this plot of land and grew stronger as he approached the small dwelling. Kurt's head began to spin and there was a dull ache in his throat, but he held his breath and kept moving forward.

When he reached the door, Kurt lifted his hand and knocked gently. Not but seconds passed before the door opened, revealing the familiar face of the small boy, his honey-golden eyes and tanned skin now glowing in the light of the dying sun.

"You -" Blaine began. A breeze blew in from behind Kurt, and he was hit with a pleasant aroma that he couldn't discern, but Blaine pushed the thought aside.

"You're okay," Kurt said, relieved.

"Yeah. I -"

"I was worried."

"You were? Why?"

"I just - never mind. What's important is that you're alive and okay." Yes, still alive and pumping blood, Kurt thought. No, those thoughts would only bring about trouble, and he knew it.

Blaine stood there just staring at Kurt before clumsily stepping backward, nearly tripping over his own feet. "You can come in. That is, if you want." He admitted Kurt who nodded and stepped hesitantly into the small house, removing his hat as he did so.

Blaine watched as Kurt looked around and then finally settled himself in a chair in the corner of the room.

It was the first time he was really seeing Kurt. He was silent as his eyes scanned the length of Kurt's long, slender body, his skin a smooth milky white that he could have sworn had a shimmer to it when he caught the sunlight through the window. Blaine took notice of his long neck, round but strong jaw, slightly upturned nose, and then his eyes - a bright blue mixed with shades of ochre. They were like nothing Blaine had ever seen before, and Kurt held himself like an old-fashioned gentleman, his legs crossed and hands and hat in his lap.

Kurt was beautiful, and Blaine blinked hard, feeling bashful, and turned away once he realized he had been rudely staring.

Something twisted in Blaine's stomach, and he quickly moved toward the kitchen. "Do you want something to eat - I'm sorry I'm such a terrible host. How about something to drink?"

A drink sounded delightful to Kurt right about now, but he held his hand up and shook his head politely. "No, but thank you. It's not like you were expecting me. Just - sit down, please."

Blaine obeyed and took a seat across from Kurt in the small room. "Are you sure you don't want anything?" Blaine was all nerves, wanting to do anything to keep Kurt in his presence. He was mesmerized by his beauty and felt like he had something he needed to say to him.

"I'm sure. I ate not that long ago." Kurt glanced around the room again. "What is this place?" He asked, returning his attention back to Blaine.

"The land I live on? The reservation, my family's home. Well, it was until recently. I still tend to the land, but many of my people have disappeared over the years. To my knowledge, I'm of Shawnee descent. We're a very small tribe, and no one really recognizes us anymore. It's probably because we tend to keep to ourselves."

Blaine's stomach continued to twist and then lurched, causing him to grab it and place his palm against his abdomen.

Kurt watched Blaine as he told him more about the land and his tribe, but he narrowed his eyes slightly as he picked up on Blaine's discomfort and began to hear the words Blaine wasn't speaking. He cocked his head to the side as he listened to Blaine's worried thoughts of illness and fear that something bad was about to happen. And as he watched, he realized that there was something different about him than before. It had been dark out when he first saw him, but it was almost as if his features had grown sharper and less boyish.

Blaine felt himself growing impossibly hot, and he rose to his feet.

Kurt could smell Blaine the entire time, the same enticing aroma that caught him up during their first encounter, and he was controlling himself, but now there was something else mixed in, something unfamiliar that caused him to sit up alert. Blaine's skin was growing increasingly flushed, his blood rising and boiling just below the surface. Although he had just fed not too long ago, Kurt's mouth began to flow with venom, and he cursed himself for feeling like he was slipping, terrified by the thought that perhaps he wouldn't be able to fight it any longer.

"Kurt," Blaine said, trying to keep his voice under control, but he felt like something was trying to climb out of his skin. "You're quiet. Did I do something wrong?"

"No." Kurt continued to watch him intently.

His curt reply angered Blaine, and he felt his discomfort peaking.

"Why were you in the woods that night?" Blaine finally asked, the question that had been nagging at him for ages and demanded an answer now that he was about to split at the seams.

Before Kurt could answer, Blaine's eyes shot open wide as he was overwhelmed by the same scent that wafted in through the doorway behind Kurt and sent waves of heat through his already feverish body. It was something that the others had described to him.

As his eyes fixed on Kurt's, he watched Kurt's eyes begin to grow dark, and he took a step backward.

Kurt opted for the truth. "I was hunting."

"What are you?" Blaine asked, but he was sure he already knew.

"I'm a vampire," Kurt said quietly.

Blaine remained quiet and frozen to the spot, his eyes wide as he felt his heart rate increase drastically. It was Kurt. It was him in the woods that night that caused Blaine to shift. Kurt was the cold one that the pack had warned him about. Kurt was not to be trusted, he was his enemy.

Then Blaine's stomach lurched again with an unbelievable violence this time, and he opened his mouth to speak.

"Kurt, I -" But then it was as if Blaine started choking as he trembled and gasped for air, and Kurt's eyes widened, unsure of how to react.

Blaine fell to the floor, and his entire body began to convulse. That's when Kurt saw the teeth, the claws, the hair...and pieced it all together. Kurt was suddenly terrified. Blaine hadn't walked away unscathed that night.

"Blaine!" he shouted. "Blaine!?" But his desperate cries were only met with a sound halfway between a scream and a growl.

Seconds later, Kurt sat there in the corner, frozen. Great, amber eyes came up to meet his own. Blaine was seething. Then he rose up from the floor onto his hind legs and stretched his neck up toward the ceiling before lunging forward.


	6. Chapter 5

Stone-hard, razor-sharp claws met Kurt's diamond-hard skin, slicing through it as if it was butter, and teeth gnashed by his throat. Thinking and acting quickly, Kurt managed to wrap his arms around the middle of the wolf and toss him back against the wall. Blaine slid to the floor, twisting around, his glare even more menacing now. He pounced again with a loud growl, and Kurt dodged out of the line of attack, trying to think of an escape plan, but he was literally cornered.

He tried to read the wolf's mind, because it wasn't just a wolf, he was a boy, trapped and tortured, but all he was getting was a mess of emotions and foggy thoughts. Hurting Blaine was the last thing he wanted to do if it could be avoided.

They stared each other down, now stepping in a circle around the small room, knocking over furniture as they went. Blaine let out a deafening bark, and Kurt stumbled into a shelf.

A picture frame crashed to the floor, glass shattering into at least a dozen pieces and skidding across the unfinished hardwood, and Blaine leaped to the side.

Kurt stared hard into Blaine's eyes, willing his thoughts to pierce the veil of Blaine's mind.

_"Blaine, can you hear me?"_

Blaine's body stilled, and he lifted his snout and began to sniff the air.

Kurt wasn't sure if he was getting through to Blaine, but it seemed like some of his efforts were working. It seemed like he could hear him, and if he could, then maybe he could tame Blaine.

_"You can fight it. It doesn't have to be this way."_

The wolf growled again, but then his eyes grew softer somehow. Feeling braver, Kurt moved forward and wrapped his arms around Blaine's neck in a gentle manner this time, and, much to Kurt's surprise, the great beast that was Blaine began to whine like a wounded pup.

They sat there on the dusty wood floor, and Kurt held on to Blaine, comforting him, his fingers grasping at and tangling themselves in thick fur.

_"Good. This is good. You're going to be okay."_

Blaine nestled his snout in against Kurt's broad chest and trembled in his arms. Kurt closed his eyes, and then he began to feel Blaine shift and shrink against him. When he opened them again, he was holding Blaine, no longer a wolf, in his arms, his small frame curled up in fetal position.

Kurt ran his fingers through Blaine's hair, too concerned with calming him to notice that Blaine's clothing had not quite survived his transformation. Kurt quickly looked away, scanning the room for something he could cover Blaine up with, and was relieved when he noticed a small throw blanket hanging over the back of the one chair, mere inches from where they had collapsed on the floor.

Feeling the soft fabric touch his skin, Blaine grabbed the corners of the blanket and wrapped it around his shoulders, folding in on himself even more, his body wracked with silent sobs.

When Blaine lifted his head, he looked devastated, and there were tears in his eyes. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't be." After another moment, Kurt finally let go of Blaine and rose to his feet.

"Thank you, Kurt. For helping me control myself. I don't want to kill anyone. I hope I didn't hurt you -"

Kurt couldn't help it, and he laughed as he brushed his pants off with his hands. "You didn't."

"I'm still sorry."

"I know."

Blaine rose from the floor, clearly embarrassed, and hastily grabbed a t-shirt and the first pair of pants he could find from his room, pulling them on before rejoining Kurt. As he sat back down in the chair, his eyes slowly rose to meet Kurt's, and he began wringing his hands as if admonishing himself.

"So you're a - a vampire," Blaine said.

"I am. And now your secret is out, too." Kurt crossed his arms. "What happened to you? God, I shouldn't have taken off, shouldn't have left you there alone. How could I have been so stupid -?"

"Kurt," Blaine cut him off. "None of this is your fault, I promise."

"How can you say that? I knew what they were, and I left you alone in those woods..." Then Kurt grew quiet, cut off this time by a sudden onslaught of jumbled thoughts in Blaine's mind, deciding to remain quiet when he sensed his unease.

"It's a long story, Kurt, and I don't want to talk about it right now."

Kurt nodded, his eyes downcast, and they sat in silence for a moment.

"Can you - will you tell me more about yourself?" Blaine asked, breaking the silence.

Kurt, his fear now quelled, took a few steps and then settled back into his chair in the corner. As they assumed the same positions from earlier, it almost felt as if nothing had ever happened. "Like what? What would satisfy your curiosity?"

"I don't know, um..." Blaine thought about how loaded the question was. He would begin with the basics, anything to crack open the enigma in front of him. "Where are you from?"

Kurt pinched the bridge of his nose, as if it was actually causing him physical pain to make the effort to remember that far back. "Chicago. I was born in Chicago."

"When?" Blaine asked.

"1907."

Blaine's eyes widened in curiosity, but he couldn't find the words to say to respond in any intelligent way.

"I know what you're thinking. You want to know when and how I was turned."

"But - how -?"

"After I was - turned - I discovered that I could hear people's internal thoughts. It drove me crazy at first, my own thoughts constantly interrupted by the inane babble of the masses, but, alas, I can read minds. Anyway, allow me to explain how I came to be - like this."

"Oh - I'm sorry. Then go on. Please."

"I had just finished high school. It was," Kurt paused briefly, "1924, if I recall correctly. My mother wanted me to experience the world that was now opened up through the invention of the commercial airplane, so she sent me off. I had just turned seventeen, and I boldly flew across the ocean. It was the thing to do, backpack on some grand adventure through Europe. I was young, naive, and on a mission to find myself."

"I see," Blaine said quietly. Already, he was lost in his imagination, trying to wrap his head around Kurt's story.

"I was in Germany. Something possessed me to get behind the wheel of an automobile without any prior knowledge of how to drive one. Like I said, I was naive, I felt invincible and so free." Kurt paused for a moment to cross his legs again. "And I took off down a road in the countryside. There was a collision. I have no recollection of how it happened, but I found myself on the side of the road bleeding out. I would have died if he hadn't found me."

"Who?"

"His name was Hans. I don't think it was his plan to turn me, he just saw me as an easy meal. No one was around to hear my screams as he sank his fangs into my throat and just - had at me."

"Kurt -" Blaine reached out but then pulled his hand back.

"I should have died. He just about drained me, and I don't know why he didn't or wasn't able to finish me off."

"But you survived, and now you're -"

Kurt chuckled bitterly at Blaine's choice of word. "A vampire. Yes. A monster cursed to exist for eternity as a parasite - the undead. I guess this is considered surviving."

"Then you came back to America."

"I did. But my mother knew almost immediately that there was something wrong with me, and I pushed her away. Under the cover of going away to college, I fled one night, left it all behind because I didn't want to harm her. Or anyone around me."

"Where did you go?"

"New York City. Everything about the place was alluring, and I knew I could easily blend in and get lost in the crowds without becoming too conspicuous. And when I needed to feed, I would slip off to the wilderness upstate and hunt animals."

"So, you've never bitten a human before?" Blaine asked hopefully.

"I never said that." Kurt leaned over to lift his hat from where it had fallen on the floor earlier and set it in his lap again, dusting it off and running his hand along its brim, stalling. "Trust me, I wish I never had, but I have. On a few occasions. I wasn't used to my cravings yet or how my body seemed to overpower and control me. It happened when I was in New York. I was sleeping on some banker's couch and doing odd jobs around the city, mostly small gigs. Then the Depression hit, and this guy cracked. I mean, he literally fell apart and wouldn't leave his bed for days. I was finding it difficult to get away from the city, and my appetite began to grow. His perpetual presence in the apartment made it all the more difficult for me. I guess I justified it in some way, as if I was doing him a favor. He didn't survive."

"And there were others?" Blaine swallowed.

"Only one other. 1988. Her name was Jennifer. Honestly, I had no excuse. She was the daughter of a couple that took me in. I went with her to her high school prom. She took something while we were there, a pill, I think, and I found myself having to drag her out of there half-unconscious. It was just too easy, so I - I fed. After that night, I went back home to Chicago, but it wasn't the same place anymore."

"How did you end up in Lima, Ohio then?"

"I couldn't stay in Chicago, so I hitchhiked, heading East again. Something always pulled me back toward New York, but this time I never made it. I was wandering around Columbus, and I guess the police mistook me for a beggar. They picked me up and locked me up. I had no identification, so I told them I was a minor. They threw me in the system, and I was adopted."

"And now you're here." As he watched Kurt, Trent's words echoed in his head.

"Yes."

"And I'm -"

"- supposed to kill me. I know."

Blaine drew in a shaky breath. He had already made his decision. "I can't do it. There's just something about you...I'm not afraid of you. I don't think you're going to harm me, or anyone for that matter."

"Thank you, Blaine. I've been in control for several years now. I only feed from animals."

"You helped me, Kurt, whether you realize it or not. And for that I am grateful. I will never harm you. But, listen. There are others in these woods, and I have no control over what they do. They know about you, and it's dangerous for you to even be here right now."

"I understand," Kurt said. He rose from the chair and took a step toward the door. "Blaine?"

"Yes?"

"I'm glad you're not like them." And with that, Kurt put his hat back on and was out the door, disappearing into the night.


	7. Chapter 6

Sleep hadn't come easily the past few nights for Blaine. Suddenly the buzzing of the insects outside the cottage became deafening, and he tossed and turned, unable to stop thinking about what had happened. Or what had nearly happened. His dreams were haunted with visions of Kurt, the sound of his sweet, melodic voice, and his waking hours were filled with exhaustion and the aching longing to be held again.

He couldn't wrap his head around why Kurt had been so merciful, why he had chosen to calm Blaine instead of fighting back, and how he somehow knew it would work. He wasn't anything like the monsters that the Dalton pack had described to him. Kurt was open, frank, and vulnerable, had kept nothing from Blaine when asked. When Blaine looked at him, he didn't see a vampire, he saw a human, a boy like himself, who was tied to a fate over which he had no control.

Kurt's parting words had left Blaine paralyzed, left pondering the intention behind them, or if maybe Blaine was just inventing significance of his own because he wanted so desperately for it to mean something.

And Blaine was glad he wasn't like the others, too.

Even though he was bonding with the pack and forming friendships at Dalton with Nick, Jeff, and Trent especially, Blaine had been lonely for a long time, missing the companionship of his mother, her warm embrace and the smells of her cooking that used to fill the house and make him feel safe; she had made the house feel like home. The house had been empty for too long.

One particular evening after he had settled into bed, his mind was on overdrive, and Blaine sat up and held his head in his hands, fighting with himself and eventually making the decision that he would have to do it, he would have to go see Kurt.

The next day, he found himself shuffling along the sidewalk through a neighborhood, past houses that all looked the same to him. He glanced up at the street sign on the corner, reading it before looking back down at his feet as he continued along. He felt like he was very close now. Every few seconds, he would sniff the air until he caught the familiar scent again that seemed so intent on getting away from him, and he finally came to the house he was almost certain was Kurt's.

He peered up into the windows of the second floor, wondering what he would say and how this might all play out. Then with a deep, shaky breath, Blaine stepped forward and made his way up to the front door. He rang the doorbell and waited with bated breath.

Kurt's face appeared first in the window, obscured by the floral design in the glass, and Blaine was afraid that he wouldn't open the door. But he let out the breath he'd been holding when the door swung slowly open. Then a hand reached out, grabbed him by the front of his shirt, and tugged him inside, shutting the door quickly behind him.

"What are you doing here? Never mind that, how did you even find me?" Kurt asked, his voice low and serious. There was a slightly menacing look in his eyes, and Blaine cowered.

"I followed your scent. I - it wasn't difficult, really." Blaine looked around the room, his eyes falling on framed photos on the wall, the sofa and television, the piano in the corner, and then his eyes dropped to the floor in front of him. "I can leave if you want me to. I'll just leave."

But when he turned back around to grab the doorknob, Kurt grabbed his wrist and pulled him back. "No. Don't go. Sorry, that was rude of me. Come inside."

Kurt's hand was like ice, and Blaine shivered from the touch. All Blaine could do was nod in response, and then Kurt led him over to the door at the entrance to his basement room and stopped just short of it.

"We can talk safely down here. I don't know when the family will be back, but we have less of a chance of being overheard in my room. Follow me," he said with a wave of his hand, and Blaine descended the shadowy stairway in tow of Kurt.

The room was unexpectedly bright, and Blaine took in all the interior decorations, lamps, curtains, and the vanity before he noticed Kurt had stopped walking. Kurt sat down gingerly on the edge of one of the beds in the room, and Blaine turned to face him. With Kurt's eyes fixed on Blaine's, he could tell that Kurt was inside his head, was intruding on his private thoughts, and he felt uncomfortable in the brief moment before Kurt finally spoke, his entire demeanor shifting.

"Blaine," Kurt began softly. "Why did you come here?" He knew the answer, but he wanted to hear it from Blaine, growing nervous in anticipation.

"I - I don't really know. No reason, really," Blaine answered. Try as he might, he couldn't shake Kurt.

"Don't lie to me. You're nervous. I know there's something you want," Kurt said. Maybe Kurt wanted it to, but he couldn't be certain yet. He rose from the bed.

"I -" Blaine looked down at the floor and turned a deep crimson as he was so wont to do around Kurt, and Kurt licked his lips out of reflex, his eyes dark and pupils blown wide. "I wanted to thank you for the other night." He was finding it very difficult to look directly at Kurt; his beauty was like staring into the sun, and Blaine was afraid it would blind him or that he wouldn't be able to turn away and stop looking if he tried. He couldn't stop staring at his lips, wondering...

"You already have, and I didn't really do anything. It was really nothing -"

"No, Kurt. It was everything." Blaine now allowed himself to look up, and his eyes bore into Kurt's. He wanted Kurt to read him, to know the truth. He wanted Kurt to know how desperate he was to touch him, to kiss him, how something had changed in him the moment Kurt had taken him in his arms and ran his fingers through his hair that day. But Kurt just kept staring, saying nothing. Blaine's body felt as if it was set aflame as he stood there under the gaze of hungry eyes.

"Oh," Kurt finally said, simply, as if it really was a simple answer to his unspoken question, his eyes widening and mouth falling open slightly. Then without further hesitation, he rushed forward and grabbed Blaine's face firmly in his hands before bringing his mouth to meet Blaine's.

Blaine felt his body stiffen at the shock of the contact with Kurt, and then tiny tremors of excitement pulsed through him. It felt as if he had just plunged his face into a bucket of ice water, but it somehow felt good, as if it was quenching the fire that had ignited and was now building within him.

Kurt's lips were cool but surprisingly soft as they moved against his own, but his body began to feel like a raging furnace, as if Kurt's breath, now mingling with his own through parted lips, was fanning the flames, adding fuel to his passion. It was too much. It was everything he had imagined it would be. Blaine was slipping, losing control, but this time he was fully aware that he was transforming.

Kurt knew, too, and reached out, grasping the front of his shirt again, holding him to his body as he began to shift, never pulling away, giving him everything he desired. He could feel the bulk of Blaine's body growing and felt its warmth intensify pressed against his own.

But it was different this time. Blaine was in control and hovered somewhere on the edge, more human than wolf. Being a part of the brotherhood had helped him learn to control his phase, but with his focus split between controlling his phase and controlling his lust, he felt his fangs beginning to grow and protrude past his swollen lips.

But Kurt continued to kiss him, once or twice moaning as Blaine nipped at his lip with his fangs and then sighed against Kurt's open mouth, which was like breathing into the chilly air on a brisk winter morning. Their teeth knocked against each other's as the kiss grew more hungry, and Kurt slid his hands around and tangled his fingers in Blaine's hair, pulling his head closer, moving his mouth more roughly against his.

It became greedier and more intense as Kurt pressed forward, but Blaine wouldn't submit and pressed Kurt back, pushing his chest up against Kurt's, pushing him backward, and then slid his tongue in between his parted lips. Then Kurt's head connected with the wall, and Blaine's hands framed his face, his breathing heavy and uneven. And Kurt could smell him, could smell that enticing scent that drew him in the first night he met him in the woods, but now it was stronger, more distinct, more -

Kurt's mouth began to move from Blaine's, planting kisses along his jawline until he was at his throat, so hot, jugular vein pulsing perfectly rhythmically just beneath the surface of his flushed, overheated skin, and right as Kurt's tongue darted out to taste, Blaine's breath hitched, and Kurt's eyes flew open.

He froze still as a statue, holding his breath.

Kurt pulled back, placing a hand on Blaine's chest to push him away and create distance before he lost complete control. He brought his fingertips up to his lips, ashamed of what he had almost done, his eyes wide and fearful.

Then Blaine, confused and upset by the rejection, shifted back into full human form, his fangs and claws retracting, as Kurt stared on blankly.

"What was that for, Kurt?" Blaine asked, knitting his brow, his chest still heaving as he caught his breath.

"I'm so sorry. I can't believe I -"

"No. Don't. Don't apologize." Blaine reached over to take Kurt in his arms again, but Kurt pulled out of his grip and turned away.

"I couldn't control myself, Blaine. I could have - I could have hurt you...or worse..."

Blaine stared hard at Kurt, his stern gaze unwavering. When Kurt wouldn't turn back around to face him, he huffed, clenching his fists at his sides. He felt so agitated and didn't know why not getting what he wanted was affecting him this way. He would do anything to get it.

"Look at me, Kurt," Blaine raised his voice, startling Kurt and causing him to pivot back around. "Maybe it's what I want. Maybe I want you, and I - I want you to have all of me," Blaine breathed the last few words.

"Blaine, I can't -"

"Oh god." Blaine scrubbed a hand across his face and then ran both hands through his hair as he began to pace the room.

As Kurt watched, Blaine began to shift again, and he could tell he was fighting it to stay in human form. There appeared to be a flickering around the edges of his body as he shook violently in front of him. Then Blaine was standing there again, breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling.

"You don't know what you're asking for," Kurt said, calm and collected as he fought to keep his voice steady.

"You're right. I should leave," Blaine said gruffly, but his voice sounded so hollow and broken.

Kurt remained quiet and stood dead still, holding his breath as Blaine spun around and took off up the stairs. He heard the front door knock against its frame. The house was silent again.


	8. Chapter 7

Monday faded into Tuesday into Wednesday and so on, and each day was like a monotonous succession of alarms, the opening and closing of car doors, and the buzzing of school bells, and Kurt drifted through the week on autopilot.

Instead of seeing writing on white boards, he saw Blaine. Instead of hearing the poetry being spoken by his teacher, he heard the soft, low growl of Blaine's voice. And instead of seeing Finn in the bed across the room, he imagined Blaine there, curled up and oblivious to the world and all the harm it could do to him. When he laid his head on his pillow at night, he could have sworn he felt the heat of Blaine's skin against his cheek, and he sighed.

The only thing keeping him grounded were his moments alone with the piano, whether in the empty choir room or in the living room of the Hudson-Hummels'.

But even as he sat on the bench and played, there was an impossible dull ache, a phantom pain pulsing incessantly in Kurt's chest, growing more intense every time he let his mind wander back to the day Blaine showed up on his doorstep. God, the way Blaine left like that and how Kurt just let him go had Kurt frustrated with himself. But most of all, he was frustrated with Blaine. How could he ever think that that would have ended well? Blaine knew what he was.

Try as he might, he couldn't shake how it felt to be in Blaine's arms, to be that close to him, breathing him in, allowing himself to lose control...It awoke something within him that had been dormant for decades, something he wasn't even sure he knew the entirety of its power.

The problem was that even Kurt didn't know what kind of harm he could have caused Blaine had he bitten him. But - oh - he had never felt a desire so strong and toward someone so willing. It terrified him to think that Blaine would take that risk for him.

His feet carried him through the days until he found himself in the woods again, the ones he knew he shouldn't be anywhere near. And then, he found himself at Blaine's again.

His knuckles rapped the rough wood of the door from which the paint was peeling in thin strips, and then Kurt stood there listening and waiting. There was no response. He lingered for a moment more, but as he tried to tune into the area and Blaine, he realized the house was completely empty. Where could he be? Kurt wondered. He wrapped his arms around himself and turned to face away from the door, gazing out over the field. He had come out here for a reason, so he decided he would wait.

He leaned up against the house next to the door and then slid down onto the ground, pulling his legs up to his chest. Several minutes passed into an hour, and Kurt still sat there waiting for a sign of Blaine's return. As the sun began to set, his eyes closed.

_Kurt sat on the bench outside Grand Central Station. The taxi cabs whizzed past through the streets that were gradually becoming illuminated by the street lamps along the way. As they circled around the grid of city blocks, Kurt lifted his head when he caught the scent of something and then saw a woman walking by with a little terrier that was practically pulling her along by its leash. Kurt licked his lips but then shook his head to dislodge the thought._

_He knew he would find himself here again eventually. The streets called to him, and he couldn't resist the wonders he always seemed to find on the grand island of Manhattan. It had been nearly twenty years since he had walked these streets, and perhaps it wasn't wise to do it again so soon. But in the city that never sleeps, neither did he, and he devoted his time to finding ways to remain anonymous._

_There were things that were born here that had stayed with him and continued to intrigue him over the years. The outdated issue of Vogue pressed between the pages of an old paperback novel in his knapsack was one of them. Broadway was the other._

_He got his first taste of the theatre when Ethel Merman took to the stage in Cole Porter's Anything Goes. As he sat in the mezzanine of the Alvin Theatre, Kurt was mesmerized and became completely enamored with the flashy choreography and the high energy of the actors._

_Now that he was back, he knew he couldn't stay away. He strolled down 51st Street until he saw the marquee lit up above the theater where a crowd was gathering outside the box office._

_My Fair Lady. West Side Story. Gypsy. Every time he could scrounge up a little cash from gigs in piano bars, Kurt immediately splurged on another ticket to sit in the audience and watch the only stars he believed mattered anymore. The last show he ever saw on Broadway was The Sound of Music._

_He had been wandering the city, playing music, and getting caught up in the culture of the Beat Generation when he realized he had stayed too long._

_After spending the summer in lounges and on the street reading and rereading On the Road, inspired, Kurt hit the road, traveling West. In fact, everything seemed to be heading West. In America, going West seemed like an inevitability for all individuals when their time came. So he gathered up his few possessions and climbed aboard a bus along with fourteen other wanderers like himself._

"Kurt. Kurt?"

The familiar voice cut through his consciousness, and he opened his eyes to see Blaine standing there looking confused. But then a smile spread across Blaine's face, and Kurt felt the corners of his own lips curl up in response.

He rose up from the ground and brushed off his pants before turning his face upward. "Hey."

"Hey," Blaine echoed, his stomach dissolving into butterflies.

"I've been thinking," Kurt said, and then paused.

"Okay," Blaine answered.

"I've been here before, once, with somebody. You see, every time I get too close, I almost slip up and do the most unforgivable thing I possibly could. And that doesn't successfully show a person how I feel, now does it."

"You mean you almost bite someone," Blaine said.

"Yeah." Kurt kicked at a bit of gravel on the dusty slab of pavement in front of the door. "I really like you, Blaine, in a way I can't really describe. That's why I can't trust myself. I'm scared that I can't trust myself when I'm with you because I can't - as hard as I try, I can't resist you."

"Okay," Blaine said again much to Kurt's dismay.

"What do you mean 'okay'?"

"I mean okay. As in, it's okay. It's not right, this thing between us, but it's okay. Because I meant what I said before. I don't care, and I want you, Kurt. And if that means that I let you bite me to satisfy your hunger, then so be it."

"But, Blaine. You don't understand. I wish it was that easy," Kurt practically whined.

"It is. Now, come inside. There's no reason to stay out here," Blaine said, opening the door and ushering Kurt inside the house.

"I won't do it," Kurt said. "I don't think this can work out between us."

"You can't tell me that you didn't feel it too," Blaine said.

But before Kurt could attempt to deny it, Blaine closed the gap between them, and his lips were on Kurt's again. All of the things he was feeling the other day rushed back to him, and he kissed back with a fervor that would have terrified anyone else.

"I'm crazy about you, Kurt," Blaine said against his lips. Something inside Kurt seemed to open up, and he felt like he was free falling, dizzy with the way Blaine said his name. Now Blaine was grasping his hips and pulling him toward his body, and Kurt gasped when their legs slotted together and Blaine's knee slid upward toward his groin. Kurt was alarmed by Blaine's strength which seemed to have increased since the last time he saw him.

After extended stays at Dalton and lessons with Trent, Blaine didn't need to concentrate nearly as much as before, and he remained in human form as he kissed, and caressed, and explored every curve of Kurt's body he could reach with his hands, while his mouth stayed above the neck, sucking and nibbling and grazing his lips across Kurt's hard, smooth skin.

Every urge Kurt had, he acted on, but he never once felt the need to stray to Blaine's throat for a taste of blood. And though he still longed to sink his teeth into that tempting flesh, his hunger was of a different nature, and he somehow felt alive again.

When they finally disconnected, Kurt stared wide-eyed at Blaine who looked up at him through thick lashes.

"Wow," Blaine said, bringing his hand up behind his head, grasping at a few curls.

"Yeah," Kurt said soft as a sigh.

"Do you - do you have to leave?" Blaine asked. He didn't know if he was being too forward, but he knew he couldn't just let Kurt go again.

Kurt contemplated the question. On one hand, Burt and Carole would worry about him, but on the other hand, in this moment, he didn't think he cared.

He shook his head. "No. I don't have to."

Blaine smiled and reached forward, taking Kurt's hand in his. Kurt allowed him to pull him along, finding that Blaine was leading him over to a room on the other side of a wall and toward his bed.

"I don't want you to get the wrong impression," Blaine said apologetically, pulling off his shoes and shirt. "But I had a long day. I'm just going to sleep. I promise."

Kurt laughed. "I can't even express how much I miss sleep."

"I'm sorry." Blaine climbed into the bed and laid back, rolling onto his side to leave room for Kurt, lifting the covers and patting the bed for him to join him.

"It's okay. This is okay." And Kurt climbed in beside him, hesitant at first to press himself up beside Blaine, but Blaine pulled Kurt in toward him, wrapping his arms around his waist, resting his head on Kurt's chest. Kurt's hand hovered above Blaine's head, and then he began to run his fingers through his hair like before.

"That feels nice," Blaine said through a yawn, and Kurt watched his eyes flutter shut. Blaine's breathing grew steady as he laid there until Kurt heard a quieting of his thoughts.

The night hours dragged on, and Kurt pulled himself up into a sitting position, an unconscious Blaine now curled up into a ball, his head in Kurt's lap. Every now and then, Blaine would make soft whimpering sounds, and Kurt looked down, Blaine's dreams seemingly swirling about the air before him. Kurt listened as if it was a soothing melody, but sometimes it was a frantic orchestra, all brass and percussion, as Blaine cut in an out of brief nightmares. When Kurt felt Blaine's fear, he placed a hand on his back and rubbed soothing circles between his shoulder blades which rapidly caused a shift in Blaine's unconscious thoughts back to something more pleasant.

And when the sun rose in the sky, Kurt waited some more until Blaine began to shift around and rouse from his slumber. A sleepy-eyed Blaine lifted his head and grinned, seeing that Kurt was still there and had stayed the night.

"Good morning," Blaine said just above a whisper.

"It is," Kurt replied. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure. What is it?"

"You know, people tend to reveal their biggest secrets when they're asleep," he began. "You have a lot of worries, Blaine, and a lot of pain. I could hear your nightmares, and it was difficult for me." Kurt shifted in the bed, pausing before daring to ask the question. "What happened to your parents?"

"They died," Blaine said, almost bluntly, but there was sadness in his eyes.

Kurt nodded, but remained silent, looking on at Blaine fondly.

"At least, I think my father is dead. That's what my mother always told me, but when she became ill, she was too far gone for me to find out the truth - if there was anything more to the story." Blaine sat up in the bed, pulling his comforter up around his shoulders like a cape, and then wrapped himself like a cocoon.

"You think there's something more to the story?" Kurt asked.

"I don't know. I was young when my father disappeared, so there's no way I could really know what happened. I took care of my mother on my own when she got sick and had to watch her grow weaker and weaker...and I think the hardest part is never having any closure."

"You've really been here alone all this time?"

"Sort of. There are others on the reservation, and a few miles down the path is a school where they teach lessons to children of the tribe. But over the past few years, our people have dispersed and dwindled, and I pulled away from all of them. I stopped going to council meetings, and I stopped going to school."

"You didn't feel like you belonged," Kurt said.

"No. I didn't. And now I know that I never really have."

They sat there on the bed in silence, and then Kurt reached over and wrapped a comforting arm around Blaine's shoulders while he remained huddled up in the blanket. In that moment, Blaine realized that there was somewhere he found recently that he belonged, and he tilted his head, resting it against the cool body embracing him.

Blaine hummed contentedly. "I've never had a boyfriend before."

"I never really have either. Not like this, anyway," Kurt said. "Is that - is that what this is between us then?"

"I think so. I mean, I want it to be." Beyond a doubt, Blaine knew it was what he wanted.

"Me too."

Then Blaine twisted around to look earnestly into Kurt's eyes. "I just want to feel normal, don't you?"

"I would give anything." Kurt's tone was flat and his expression melancholic.

"Let's go out," Blaine said. "I want to take you on a date."

Then Kurt laughed, a smile breaking through his tough exterior. "Is that what people do these days? Is that how they court?"

"I don't know. I think so, but it doesn't matter. I want to take you out, and I want to learn everything I can about you, and I want to just spend time with you, Kurt." Blaine paused. "So what do you say?"

"Okay."

"What do you mean 'okay'?" Blaine teased, and Kurt rolled his eyes and laughed.

"I mean yes. I would love to be courted by you. I didn't know that your kind still existed - the suave, deferential gentleman, that is."

"Oh, we're downright mythological, practically extinct," Blaine joked. They both looked at each other in a deadpan manner and then burst into laughter. "The only thing is, I don't really know where people hang out or go. I think there's a coffee house in town -"

"Take me there, then," Kurt said. "I can't eat or drink anything, but I can enjoy your company. It's all I need."

Blaine felt a blush creep into his cheeks. "Let's go." And he quickly threw on a fresh outfit, took Kurt's hand, intertwined their fingers, and pulled him out the door.

-s-

The bell tinkled as they entered the Lima Bean. Kurt scouted out a small round table off in a corner and situated himself while Blaine approached the counter. While he stood there in line, he gazed at the menu on the wall, and it hit him that he knew nothing about coffee. He had never touched the stuff. But then he saw a drink that was familiar to him.

"A small hot chocolate, please," he said.

"Will that be all?" the barista asked.

"Yes, that's all."

She read his total off to him, and Blaine handed over the few bucks that he had. As soon as he received his drink, he settled down into the chair across from Kurt who perked up as he did.

"The smells in this place are overwhelming," Kurt said.

Blaine took a sip of his hot cocoa, immediately regretting it after burning his tongue, and then set the beverage aside to cool. "Yeah. But I think I like the smell of coffee." He stuck his tongue out to fan it with his hands.

Kurt chuckled. "You look ridiculous, and I wasn't talking about the coffee."

Blaine looked around at the small groups of high school students scattered about the place, and then turned back to Kurt.

"Oh. We can leave -"

"No, this is fine." Kurt reached across the table and set his hand on its surface, his fingertips only centimeters from Blaine's.

"How do you..." Blaine began awkwardly, glancing around. "How do you spend your time? You've been alive for so long, and I feel like it must get, well, boring."

"That's an excellent question. I go to school. Most of the people here are familiar to me, but I don't know their names. I generally keep to myself." He paused, his eyes following something, and then scrunched up his nose as if he smelled something foul. "That jacket she's wearing," Kurt pointed to a girl on the other side of the shop. "I don't know what she was thinking."

An amused expression took over Blaine's features. "I can tell you like clothes," he said, and for the first time he really took notice of Kurt's dark leather jacket, skinny denim pants, and boots. "I never really understood all that, but you always look put together."

"I've seen fashion change so much over the years, trends came and went, died and then were resurrected...some things should stay dead. But I find it quite fascinating. I've been collecting issues of Vogue for years. And I've been people watching."

"How do you afford anything you have? I'm sorry if that came off wrong." Blaine lifted the drink up to take a sip.

"It's okay. I find places to play music. No matter where I've been, I've always been able to find somewhere that needs entertainment. It doesn't pay much, usually just tips, but it's always in demand. Well, until recently, the last couple of decades. People don't appreciate live music like they used to. Now I'm lucky that I have families that take me in and treat me as their own."

"What do you play?" Blaine hadn't been exposed to much music, save the few songs he learned in school on the reservation, and it always intrigued him.

"Piano, mostly," Kurt answered. "I learned when I was very young, and I grew up on jazz. It was my first addiction. It's become a part of my being."

Blaine was fascinated by Kurt's history, his talent, and his beauty, and he sat there, head in hand, just staring and admiring Kurt. He hadn't realized how lost in thought he'd become and how his beverage now sat abandoned off to the side on the table.

"Blaine," Kurt said with an impish grin. "You're transparent."

"What?" Blaine sat upright, grabbing at the hot cocoa and intentionally taking a sip to busy himself.

"I'm fond of you too," Kurt said. As he sat there, Kurt was momentarily distracted by all the smells attacking his system, and he began to feel thirsty. He knew he needed to get out of here and fast. "How about we get out of here - go somewhere else?"

"Sure," Blaine said, and that's when he noticed Kurt's fidgeting. When he looked into his eyes, they were much darker than usual.

They left the shop and began the trek back to Blaine's, but as soon as Kurt was in the woods again, he was losing it, feeling weaker and weaker with every second. He could smell the creatures around him and heard a deer skip by a little ways off in the distance. He inhaled deeply, feeling the venom begin to flow and his throat begin to ache and burn.

"I'm sorry, Blaine, but I need to leave you here. I can't walk you all the way back." His eyes flickered and followed a squirrel up a nearby tree. "Oh god," Kurt grumbled.

"I know what this is, Kurt," Blaine said, picking up on all the cues. "You need to feed."

"And you need to go home, quickly. I'm not going to be able to control myself much longer."

"Then don't."

Blaine swiftly grabbed Kurt's wrists and pushed him forward until his back was up against a tree.

Kurt gasped when his back collided with the hard bark, his eyes growing wide and fearful. "Blaine - what are you doing?"

"I'm giving you what you want, can't you see that, Kurt?"

"Don't - don't do this." Kurt's body began to tremble as Blaine pushed his chest flush up against him, pinning him hard against the tree so that there was no escape. Kurt could feel his control slipping as the smell of Blaine bombarded his senses and made him positively drunk. Soon, Blaine's neck was in such close proximity that all Kurt had to do was open his hungry mouth and...

Blaine groaned in agony as Kurt broke the skin, sinking his teeth into the impossibly warm flesh. Kurt's eyes shot open as he began to drink, and it was the most delicious blood he had ever tasted, fresh and rich, and it began to fill up his entire being. The warm liquid was like a drink of the freshest, purest water after being lost in the desert for days. It was like the first taste of bread after a month-long fast, rich and rejuvenating. It was like coming back to life, as if that was even a possibility for him. He felt so reenergized, so -

The grip on Kurt's wrists loosened as he drank deeply, and Blaine's body began to grow limp against his. Kurt suddenly pulled off in a panic, and he watched as Blaine's eyes began to fall shut, like his eyelids were too heavy to lift with the little energy that remained in his body.

"Blaine?"

Silence.

"Shit. Oh god. No." Kurt held Blaine there, trying to keep him from collapsing, and then he lowered him slowly to the ground. Blaine was still breathing, but only shallow breaths escaped him. "I hate you. Why? Why would you make me do this?! You knew...you knew!" Kurt cried out.

"I'm okay," Blaine said weakly, managing to open his eyes.

Startled, Kurt fell back onto his hands, crawled backward through the dirt, and leaned his back against the tree again. "But -"

He watched as Blaine reached up to touch the spot where Kurt had bitten him, but now there was only a faint mark, the only evidence that there had been any damage at all. "See?"

"What? How? But I -" Kurt spluttered.

"I don't know. I'm a fast healer. I guess it's something that comes with being what I am," Blaine said, now having regained enough strength to sit up. He scooted around until he was on his knees in front of Kurt.

Kurt continued to stare wide-eyed at Blaine in amazement.

Blaine reached out and took Kurt's hands with some opposition as Kurt tried to pull away but lost the fight.

"But I hurt you, Blaine," Kurt said, a fearful whisper.

"It did hurt, yeah, but, Kurt...I wanted to give you what you want, what you need, and now that I know that I can..."

"I can't believe this. I don't know how it's possible," Kurt said, more to himself than to Blaine.

It was strange, how Blaine's blood made Kurt feel like he might never need to feed again, but he knew he would _want _to feed from him again as soon as he could. It made him feel almost alive, probably because Blaine was no ordinary human. His werewolf blood must contain something that affects Kurt differently, and it - what if it had poisoned him? They were natural enemies, it only made sense. Kurt's mind raced as he realized how truly dangerous feeding from Blaine could have been. He could have -

Blaine took Kurt's hand and laced their fingers together, abruptly derailing Kurt's train of thought. Kurt looked down at their hands. He was in over his head now. The kindness, the willingness, the sacrifice...Blaine was fast becoming a problem for Kurt. But was it really a problem, or was Kurt just scared of what this all could mean? They weren't meant to be together. They were like some sick, twisted Romeo and Juliet come back from the dead, but Kurt found himself unable to back down and unable to push Blaine away any longer.


	9. Chapter 8

Autumn soon turned into winter, and the two grew closer despite the cold, often brutal snowstorms that hit the region and kept them separated for sometimes weeks at a time. But every time they were together, there was an undeniable bond between them that only strengthened as the season passed.

Blaine was growing stronger, becoming a master of himself, and Kurt could sense a shift in his attitude and a heightened sense of maturity about him. He felt crazy for thinking it, but it was almost as if Blaine had aged a few years over the span of just a few months, and when springtime rolled around, Kurt was finding it even more difficult to resist him, constantly distracted by his more defined face, arms, and chest. And Blaine wore his hair longer now and always had a bit of scruff on his face, which Kurt normally wasn't fond of but found strangely attractive on Blaine.

The physicality of their relationship didn't progress much past long makeout sessions and the occasional over-the-clothes explorations of each others' bodies. Despite Kurt's resistance, Blaine insisted he feed from him, especially since food sources were scarce when snow was on the ground. Kurt knew that wasn't really the issue, but he gave in only two more times because he knew it was what made Blaine happy and that it was just an excuse to spend more time with him. It was incredibly satisfying for Kurt, and he knew that he was absolutely hooked.

As April rolled around, Blaine continued to make regular trips to Dalton, unbeknownst to Kurt. It was the only secret he kept from him, if keeping secrets from him was even possible. He was certain that Kurt must have suspected something or knew, but it never came up in conversation.

It had been a long week of meetings with the pack, and Blaine, his mind preoccupied with where he was planning to take Kurt next, fell behind the others on his way out of the common room. It was only when a broad hand caught him and pushed him back that a startled Blaine looked up into familiar green eyes, and the big, goofy, dazed grin he had been wearing seconds ago instantly fell away.

He took a step backward, gripping the shoulder strap of his knapsack. Blaine knew he was in trouble.

Sebastian stood tall in front of him, a cunning grin on his face, eyes narrowed, and obviously had no qualms about invading his personal space. He was so close that Blaine felt hot breath on his neck, and it sent a chill down his spine. Even after all this time, he was still wary of Sebastian and how he often found him eying him like a piece of meat.

"Hello, Blaine. I was sitting over there watching you during the meeting and just couldn't help but notice there's a certain glow about you. I hear you are killing it and no longer need training."

Sebastian wrapped his fingers around Blaine's bicep, squeezing slightly and causing Blaine's body to stiffen. Then he ran his hand along Blaine's arm before letting it fall away, appearing quite pleased.

"Listen, the others think you're the runt, but I beg to differ. I know better about you, Blaine. I can see the fire that burns in your eyes. Hunter thinks you're weak, but I think he's just jealous." Sebastian stopped to take a breath and deliberately inhaled Blaine's scent. "I don't have a mate, Blaine, and I find myself...drawn to you. I can't put my finger on it, but you have a certain charm about you. And it's not just the overwhelming scent of your virginity - which I'm sure we could take care of."

Blaine tensed up even more at Sebastian's words, finding himself unable to run but also unable to respond. He swallowed audibly, and Sebastian seemed pleased with himself that he had incapacitated Blaine and rendered him speechless.

"Here's the thing, Blaine. I don't beat around the bush, and I don't have time to waste. Pure and simple: I want you. And as Alpha, everyone knows I get what I want. Always. Whether you like it or not, you belong to me - but don't worry, you _will_ like it."

The smile Sebastian wore reminded him of a cat dangling a helpless mouse before him before devouring it in one vicious bite. This was a game to Sebastian, a game Blaine didn't want to play because he knew he'd lose more than he could bargain for.

Still, he couldn't help the heat pooling in his stomach and the increasing tightness of his pants. He didn't want Sebastian that way, but months of being with Kurt without release was making him crazy, often leading to uncomfortable situations. And it didn't help that Sebastian was drawing closer with each word until he was pressed up against Blaine's side, practically hissing in his ear.

"You know, Blaine, there's something different about you..."

Panic spiked inside Blaine. "What do you mean?"

"There's something different about the way you - _smell._" Sebastian's lips lightly grazed Blaine's neck as he inhaled.

Blaine closed his eyes and shivered. "I -"

"No. Don't speak." Sebastian stepped away, walked a few paces, and sat down on the arm of a chair, facing Blaine. He folded his hands in his lap and fixed Blaine with that same piercing look again. "I hope you aren't being stupid, Blaine. Mistakes are not something we like to make. You belong to us..." Sebastian leaned forward. "You belong to _me_."

Blaine's eyes fell shut again for a moment.

"We wouldn't want to catch you _consorting_ with vampires, now would we?"

"No," Blaine said.

"Good. Because Hunter told me he thought he saw a certain bloodsucker near your house, but I was like, that couldn't possibly be. He must have been seeing things."

Blaine swallowed nervously. "There's a reason you're the Alpha," he said.

"Why, yes, I suppose you're right. Now, if you would, the rest of the pack is waiting for us in the foyer. We're going hunting tonight. Let's go, killer. You're gonna be great."

-s-

The teacher paced back and forth like a pendulum in front of the class, and Kurt blinked a few times, feeling like the man's movements were capable of hypnosis. Up on the board were written notes from the lecture, and Kurt copied them down in his notebook, if only to keep his hands busy. When he came to a certain section, he squinted, making sure he had just read correctly, but then his hand shot up.

"Yes, Kurt?"

"You do know that FDR was not a monogamist, right? And that Eleanor was gay and was simply pioneering and perfecting the act of bearding?"

The teacher froze, obviously in shock and growing more and more uncomfortable by the second. He cleared his throat. "Do you think that's appropriate for the classroom?"

"I think that this is an American history class, and you're responsible for presenting the facts to your students. So, yes, I believe that it is appropriate and certainly more appropriate than that tie and those shoes you're wearing." Kurt waggled his finger in the teacher's direction and scrunched up his face in disgust.

"Kurt Hummel..." The man was now bright red.

Kurt braced himself, expecting to be sent out of the room or written up, but his history teacher simply turned around to face the board, smudged something out with his hand that he had written, and then sat down at his desk and put his head in his hands.

When the bell rang, Kurt was on his way out when the teacher reached out and grabbed his arm, forcing him to spin back around.

"Stay back for a minute, Mr. Hummel. I need to speak with you."

"But I need to get to my next class," Kurt said, although he really wasn't in a rush to get to gym. "What is it?"

"This is about your behavior in my class. Let me set things straight."

"Oh, you're setting them straight alright."

"Hummel," he said with a warning glare. "I understand that this is something that's important to - _you_ -, but what authority do you think you have to speak like that in my class?"

He huffed and couldn't hold back a smirk. "I've been there...I've been through it, and I know how things were. And, really, it's a miracle and positively mind-blowing how things have changed and progressed." Kurt crossed his arms. "But if close-minded hicks are going to continue to teach the 'facts', then I don't know how much longer my faith can last. And let me tell you, it's lasted a hell of a long time already."

The teacher was silently fuming and doing everything in his power to control himself. "This conversation is over, Kurt. I've heard what you had to say, and I'm glad you're so _informed_, but I would like it if you left my classroom now."

And with that, Kurt grunted, scooped up his books, shouldered his messenger bag, and left the room without looking back.

He wasn't sure what had triggered him this time, he very rarely became confrontational, but something about class today hit a nerve. He spent the rest of the day brooding and trying not to draw too much attention to himself. People were already talking, and even if he couldn't hear it, he could hear what they were thinking, and it was loud and clear.

As soon as he returned home, he holed himself up in his bedroom and took out his Vogue collection, plopping down onto the bed belly down. He flipped through a few issues, nostalgia hitting him in the gut, and he channeled memories of New York and its glamor. Kurt couldn't wait to get out of here and move on again, and it was only a matter of time.

A tapping on the basement window startled him from his reverie, and Kurt looked up to see what it could possibly be. His confusion only grew when he saw a familiar head of dark curls, bright hazel eyes, and a wide toothy grin staring back at him.

He rose from the bed, eyebrow quirked, and opened up the window.

"Special delivery," Blaine said, and he pulled a bouquet of flowers out from behind his back and passed them down to Kurt through the window.

"I'm not sure this is the proper way of doing this, but I'll give you credit for effort." He took the flowers and laughed as he watched a slight tinge gather in Blaine's cheeks. "Thank you, though. It's very sweet of you."

"Can I come in?" Blaine asked nervously.

"Oh! Of course. The Hudson-Hummels are away for the weekend, so we have some time for privacy."

Lifting the window completely open, Blaine slid inside, carefully landing on the soft carpet. He closed and locked the latch and turned back around toward Kurt.

"I'm trying to do the whole romantic thing, but I'm not sure I know how to woo you."

"You're doing a fine job, Mister. I wouldn't try too hard. It's all pretty new to me, so anything you do is really...nice."

Kurt set the flowers on the nightstand and looked on at them fondly. He had absolutely no idea what he would do with them, but it was endearing nonetheless.

"C'mere," Kurt said, grabbing Blaine by the wrist and pulling him over toward the bed, and Blaine's heart began to race. Then Kurt ducked down and pulled a box of old vinyls out, carefully sliding them in and out until he found the one he was looking for. He slid it out of its cardboard sleeve and set it on the turntable in the corner of the room.

"That thing works?" Blaine asked, watching in curiosity.

"Of course," Kurt said simply. He set the needle in the groove.

Blaine shifted on his feet as the music began to play and then moved a little closer to Kurt.

"I've found that some things never get old," Kurt said. "Some things remain timeless, they never die, so to speak."

Blaine laughed softly at Kurt's word choice and then smiled bashfully.

"What is this?"

"Van Morrison," he answered. They listened to the first song in comfortable and thoughtful silence as Kurt was sucked back into an earlier time, his gaze becoming distant. Then the next song on the album began to play, and the swing beat changed the atmosphere. Kurt looked up into Blaine's eyes as the vocals began.

He reached out, placing his hands on Blaine's hips, his fingers curling around his slender body, and pulled him in closer.

Blaine shivered but then felt a heat rising in his body, his stomach becoming a jumbled mess of nerves. No one had ever held him like this before, and Kurt's hands were careful but firm, making him feel so wanted and so safe. Blaine slid his his arms under Kurt's and wrapped them around his torso, bringing his palms to rest on Kurt's broad upper back. He could feel the rippling muscles of Kurt's back through his shirt as he held on and they eased into the music.

_"Well, it's a marvelous night for a Moondance_

_With the stars up above in your eyes_

_A fantabulous night to make romance_

_'Neath the cover of October skies"_

They fell into an easy rhythm, swaying and turning around the room, bodies pressed close to each other. Blaine tucked his head in against Kurt's neck, resting his chin on his shoulder. He was is ecstasy, felt so close to him now, and he allowed his eyes to fall shut. The moment was perfect. There was no need to speak. The music did it all for them.

_"Can I just have one more Moondance with you, my love?_

_Can I just make some more romance with you, my love?"_

Kurt inhaled deeply, his mind beginning to short-circuit as he held Blaine in his arms like this. He ran his hand down Blaine's back, bringing it to rest on the small of it, and Blaine gasped, sending a jolt through Kurt's body.

_"And every time I touch you, you just tremble inside_

_And I know how much you want me that you can't hide"_

Oh god, Blaine wanted Kurt so badly right now. He felt himself quiver at every touch, every time Kurt changed the position of his hands on his body, and it was driving him insane. But he knew that his thoughts were betraying him as soon as they crossed his mind.

_"On a magic night_

_Can't I just have one more dance with you, my love?"_

"Kurt," Blaine breathed by Kurt's ear as they continued to sway there. "I want you so bad right now," he continued, gruffly but almost a whisper.

"I know," Kurt said weakly, and then Blaine leaned forward, and Kurt caught his mouth with his own, sliding their lips together. Then, much to Blaine's dismay, Kurt pulled away. "I want to see the stars," he said in response to the pout that had taken over Blaine's face. Kurt took the needle off the record.

Blaine let out an involuntary whimper, but then nodded his head.

Quietly, they moved through the house and up the stairs until they were in a small room that appeared to be an office. Kurt lifted open the window and then climbed out onto the roof, pulling Blaine out with him. They sat down on the rough shingles beside each other and gazed out over the town.

Kurt shifted around and then laid back.

"Blaine," he finally spoke.

"Yes?"

"I don't know if I can do it. I don't know if I'm even capable of it," Kurt said, a hint of sadness in his voice.

Blaine laid back now, contemplating what Kurt had said. He stretched his arm out and took Kurt's hand in his. "I'm sorry. I just keep having these thoughts, and I can't help it. You do something to me, Kurt, and I get so caught up that I start to lose my mind." Blaine turned his head and could see the stars and moon reflected in Kurt's eyes which were much darker than usual.

"I thought I made it obvious, though, that I want exactly what you want," Kurt said. "I just don't know if it's possible."

Blaine could feel himself growing hot at Kurt's confession, and he continued to stare at Kurt's profile, admiring the curve of his nose, his skin practically glowing in the moonlight. Blaine intently watched Kurt's lips move as he spoke and was unable to keep his desires from permeating his mind.

"God, you're killing me here," Kurt sighed, squirming at the thoughts dancing around Blaine's mind.

"Sorry, I just -"

"Don't keep apologizing. It's a bad habit and also completely unnecessary." Kurt turned his head to the side to meet Blaine's eyes. "I don't know if I can but - I want...I want to try."

Blaine gulped audibly, his pulse quickening.

"Because I feel something that I've never felt before. Somehow being with you seems to wake up my body, makes me feel like there's life coursing through my veins again, like my heart is swelling."

Blaine sat up quickly, his heart now hammering in his chest. Then he pulled Kurt up from the roof and toward the window. "God, Kurt. What are we waiting for then?"

And they ducked down, quickly climbing back through the window. Blaine stumbled and pulled Kurt along down the hallway and the stairs, and Kurt was reeling from Blaine's energy. It was intoxicating, and soon Kurt was swept up in it all, knowing that there was no turning back.


	10. Chapter 9

**A/N: **Because I understand that this is kind of a strange chapter, I just wanted to clarify something to avoid any possible confusion. Everything in italics are thoughts, and they are always either Blaine or werewolves since they communicate in that manner.

* * *

They crept back down the stairs through the empty living room, and as soon as their feet touched the floor of the basement bedroom, Kurt allowed his lust to hijack his entire being and he became ravenous, unable to keep his hands and mouth off of Blaine whose hands were also roaming and claiming, pulling Kurt further and further under in the heat of the moment.

"I don't know if it's the rush that comes with the danger of us being together." Kurt took Blaine's lips in his. "But I love losing control with you." He kissed Blaine again and again, edging him backwards towards his side of the room, and then pushed him down onto the bed. "But I do know that whatever this is feels more right than anything I've ever felt in my entire existence."

With nimble fingers, Kurt pulled Blaine's shirt up over his head, quickly bringing his mouth to his skin, trailing desperate kisses across the defined muscles of Blaine's abdomen and up his chest, his neck, and then connected their mouths again.

Outside the house, rain began to patter lightly against the windows and the siding. Kurt tugged his own shirt off, not breaking contact for very long, their mouths connecting again like magnets.

Blaine moaned softly as he ran his hand down Kurt's chest, stopping just above his waistband. He fumbled with the button as he undid Kurt's pants with shaky fingers. Kurt was still soft, but he stretched his neck out and moaned in anticipation. In seconds, Blaine's hand was cupping Kurt's cock through the thin fabric of his briefs as he pressed his mouth to Kurt's neck, and Kurt's eyes shot open wide as he felt himself begin to grow hard from the heat and the friction.

Then Blaine wrapped both hands around Kurt's waist and, with a tremendous strength, turned them over so that Blaine was now on top. Their kisses and touches turned rougher, into a wrestle of sorts, as Kurt fought to remain on top and in control.

Blaine dug his fingers and nails into Kurt's back and clawed at the flesh as they continued to attack each others' lips, face, and necks, rolling their hips together and moaning at the friction.

Kurt nipped at spots all over Blaine's body, flicking his tongue out to taste him, breathing him in.

But something about Blaine's strength seemed different than before, too much for Kurt to handle, and he managed to flip Kurt over onto his stomach, pressing him down into the bed as he climbed on top of him.

Kurt's erection pressed into the mattress, and he gasped, feeling the weight of Blaine's body holding him down. Then Blaine nibbled on Kurt's earlobe and shoulder before licking and sucking at a spot on his neck.

Blaine, eager now, and unable to hold back, undid his pants, wiggled out of them, and tossed them to the side before returning his full attention to Kurt who was writhing on the bed beneath him. He didn't know what he was doing, but, god, did Kurt look beautiful laid out beneath him like that. Blaine knew what felt good, so he pressed his hard cock up against Kurt's ass, sliding it against his crevice through the thin fabric. Suddenly, it was like a wild instinct took over, and Blaine tore Kurt's briefs down and off of him, kissing the exposed skin on his perfectly round ass, his lips grazing his smooth flesh, following the curve.

"I want you, Kurt," Blaine practically growled, and it sent a prickle of excitement through Kurt's body. Then he whimpered in all his want, feeling the unbearable swell and ache of his cock. "I'm going to take you."

Kurt remained belly-down on the bed, his face now sinking into the pillow as he felt Blaine's body press more firmly against him, its heat unbelievably intense, his own underwear now discarded on the floor. Then Blaine's pressed his length against Kurt's ass, harder than before, and Kurt felt his cock twitch beneath him.

"Please, Blaine," Kurt pleaded through a moan. He could feel his cock leaking as he continued to catch the friction, his cock trapped between his stomach and the bed and constantly sliding against the sheets as Blaine took control.

"I'm going to treat you so good, Kurt. Because you're perfect. You're gorgeous, and, god, you're - _god._" Blaine felt dizzy with want, his mind in a useless fog as his body took over, craving only one thing, the boy beneath him.

_"I want to fuck you so hard. I want to make you feel so good."_

"Yes," Kurt moaned.

Blaine growled in response, his arousal spiking, and with a renewed and heightened fervor, he continued to kiss and nip at Kurt's ass, coming ever closer to Kurt's hole. Blaine's tongue darted out, tasting his flesh, and Kurt tensed at the wet heat and the newness of the sensation. Then Blaine gripped Kurt's hips and edged him up the bed, forcing him to arch his back and lift his ass. Blaine pushed his tongue through the ring of muscle as Kurt's entire body seemed to receive an electric shock, causing him to let out a strangled moan. The reaction and the sound only brought on a fresh wave of adrenaline, and Blaine thrust his tongue inside Kurt, licking around the entrance as he pulled it out. Blaine was tasting him, reveling in every noise and movement that he provoked from Kurt.

Blaine pulled back and saw Kurt's now slick entrance clench at the absence of his tongue.

_"I love you. I love this. I love all of you."_

The next thing that happened came without warning, and Kurt groaned as Blaine slowly pushed himself inside, stretching Kurt open. He thrust forward and buried his cock deeper, growing impossibly hard at the tightness. Kurt felt so full, a wave of pleasure washing over him, and he tried to relax.

Blaine let out a whimper as he leaned forward, completely out of his head at how good it felt, pressing his chest against Kurt's back, and then planted kisses around his shoulder blades and along his spine as he began to move inside him, slowly at first. Kurt felt a slight burn as Blaine thrust forward, sliding in and out, and bit down on his lip, the sheets fisted in his hands which were now up by his head.

_"You feel so good. So tight."_

Kurt's body jolted forward as Blaine picked up speed, his hips soon making contact with Kurt's ass, and Kurt placed his palms on the headboard to keep from sliding, pushing himself backward onto Blaine. They were moving in perfect synchronization, like when they had danced, but so much more in tune, so much more intense.

"Oh, Kurt," Blaine moaned, his pleasure peaking. "You're amazing. I'm about to -."

"Fuck - harder, Blaine. I'm close too," Kurt said through clenched teeth.

_"I don't want to spoil this. I love you so much, Kurt. I don't want this to end."_

Blaine grabbed onto Kurt's shoulders as he thrust into him one final time before coming completely apart, filling Kurt up as he shuddered through his orgasm. The sound Blaine made was inhuman, something between a growl and a moan, and Kurt began to come onto the sheets bunched up beneath him.

Blaine focused on his breathing as he came down from his high, wiping away the beads of sweat that had formed on his brow. He carefully pulled out of Kurt then collapsed on top of him. Kurt twisted his body around so that he was now on his back facing Blaine.

He took Blaine's face in his hands, and Blaine closed his eyes, nuzzling against his palms like a dog would.

"Thank you."

Kurt grinned and brought his mouth to Blaine's again, kissing him slowly, languidly. When they disconnected, Kurt gradually pulled himself up and cleaned the two of them off. As Kurt pulled the sheets off the bed, Blaine pulled his pants back on and continued to watch Kurt move around the room.

Kurt kept his back to Blaine, the only thing he could do to fight the urge, the immense craving that was threatening to destroy all his willpower. Being that close to Blaine was bad enough, but connecting with him on that level brought Kurt to an entirely new place in which he feared he would no longer be able to hold back. He was thirsty, hungry to sink his teeth into Blaine's flesh, because he felt so good, smelled so good, and tasted so good. He didn't want Blaine to know, didn't want Blaine to see that he was breaking. Because, even though Blaine begged for it, Kurt felt so guilty after the first few times and swore to himself that he would never do it again.

But Kurt had been breaking a lot of promises to himself when it came to Blaine.

When he finally turned around, Blaine was still shirtless and sprawled out on the bed, looking at Kurt, a question in his eyes.

"No, Blaine, I -"

But then Blaine ran his fingers from just below his ear, down, tracing the arch of his collarbone, over his nipple, and then his hand came to rest on his stomach. Kurt licked his lips as his eyes followed the movement. He couldn't hold back anymore, and Blaine was calling him over, inviting him, telling him it was okay. And Kurt climbed hastily back into the bed and over Blaine's body, hovering before he lowered his face toward Blaine's throat.

Kurt pressed his lips gently against the warm, rough flesh of the neck of the boy beneath him. His lips parted as he scraped his teeth across his pulse point before he pierced the skin, clamping his jaw around it as a moan escaped its owner. Kurt sucked hard and drank openly, savoring the taste he had become so accustomed to, so - addicted to.

And he fed, breathing in through his nose as he filled himself up with the nourishment he'd been needing.

When he moved his mouth away, Kurt examined the small puncture wounds, reaching his hand up to gently trace his fingertips across the bloody, broken flesh.

"I love how you taste. I will never get tired of it - or you," Kurt softly growled, licking the remaining drops of blood from his lips and teeth.

"I'm all yours, Kurt. All of me. I told you, I'll always be here for you...for as long as I can," Blaine said, reaching his hand up to cup Kurt's smooth-as-marble, alabaster cheek. Then he pulled away. Kurt's face grew stony for a moment before his expression softened, and he lowered his head by Blaine's ear.

Then Kurt placed his lips and tongue, warmed only by the transfer of Blaine's hot, sanguine liquid life force, against his throat and lapped gently at the thin trails of blood still escaping. A shiver ran the length of Blaine's body, and then, as Kurt watched, the wound almost suddenly began to close up, leaving behind only two faint, circular scars.

"It's remarkable, really," Kurt mused. "That we can be this close - that, 'us' is actually working."

"I have to be honest with you, Kurt. I never thought I would survive. I knew what you needed, and I could give it to you, but I wasn't sure I would survive you," Blaine said.

Kurt considered Blaine's words as the rain continued to fall. A tense silence passed between them, and the soft puffs of their breath sounded deafening in the quiet, empty house. Kurt was more than grateful for the privacy.

"I'm not going to live forever, not like you," Blaine continued. "If we stay together, people are going to start noticing. I don't think I can be turned, not now that I'm already, well, like I am. What is going to happen when old age takes me and -"

Kurt shushed Blaine, placing his finger against his plump lips. "Don't."

"But -"

"Don't ruin this moment, Blaine," Kurt said firmly. "It's not as if I don't already know of all your fears, I hear them every day, feel your insecurities as if they were my own. But, please, let me enjoy our time together."

Blaine looked into Kurt's serious but pleading eyes, now much brighter than they had been only moments ago, and then relaxed with a sigh. He scooted down in the bed and tucked himself in against Kurt's side, allowing Kurt to wrap a strong arm around his waist. Blaine squeezed his eyes shut tightly and tried to will away his thoughts and clear his mind.

"I almost feel human again, when I'm with you," Kurt spoke just above a whisper. "At least, I think I understand what people are talking about when they talk about love."

"Kurt," Blaine breathed. He had been thinking a lot about what Trent had told him, and now might be the time to tell Kurt that he didn't have to ever leave him.

"Yes?"

"Never mind. It's just that -

A thunderous crash sounded outside, shaking the house and its foundation. Kurt and Blaine both sat bolt upright, Blaine's heart now beating erratically.

"What was that?" Blaine asked.

"Stay down," Kurt warned, leaping up from the bed to peer out the fogged window as best he could. Then he saw them begin to materialize through the curtain of rain, and he held his breath, becoming still as a statue.

There was a blinding light, and then something came crashing through the window, shattering the glass all around Kurt who instinctively ducked and shielded his face. He whipped around to see a terrified Blaine now crouching beside the edge of the bed, his breath coming out labored, poised as if ready to pounce if necessary.

"Run," Kurt hissed. "Go. Now!"

But Blaine remained rooted in place, refusing to leave Kurt's side.

"Blaine!" Kurt shouted in frustration.

"I told you I'm not going anywhere, Kurt! I meant it!"

"Have it your way then!" And then Kurt dashed up the steps. Blaine whipped around and bounded after him.

When he caught up with Kurt, Kurt was out on the front lawn, surrounded by a small pack of wolves. They moved in on him, snarling and snapping their jaws in the open air. Kurt panicked. As he stepped back, they closed him in, cornered him like a rabbit in a hunt. It was all a game to them.

"Kurt!" Blaine called out.

"Blaine. We're outnumbered. Run! Save yourself!"

"No!"

"You are a complete fool, you know that?" And Kurt laughed bitterly in spite of the situation.

Kurt's words spiked a nerve, and Blaine began to lose his temper. Moments later, he was shifting, screaming out as he took on his wolf form, until he was howling.

Hunter leaped on Kurt, knocking him back, and bit down, clamping his jaw onto his arm. Blaine heard something snap and a sickening tearing sound that infuriated him further. He had to do something, so he pounced on the wolf about to have a go at Kurt next, getting a hold of Sebastian's neck. The chestnut Alpha wolf yelped and shook its body violently, flinging Blaine from him.

Blaine caught a glimpse of Kurt fighting back, now trying to get out of the grasp of two wolves, before Sebastian's fangs made contact and sank into his leg. With a bark, Blaine shook him off and jumped back.

_"I warned you, Blaine."_ Sebastian growled. _"Or are you too much of an arrogant fuck to think I was serious? You're just a child, too dumb to realize that there are consequences - or too dumb to care."_

_"Fuck you!"_ Blaine spat.

_"You're going to wish you were. I hope you had fun with the parasite, because it's never going to happen again. Ever. Unless you find a way to love his ash remains."_ Sebastian's lips curled up as he bared his teeth, and a hatred coursed through Blaine's body like one he had never known before.

Blaine realized that he was probably about to make the next biggest mistake in his life, but his body kept moving forward, fueled by the need to fight to save Kurt, to save the only thing, the only person who made him feel like he had something worth fighting for, something worth protecting.

He was going to take on the Alpha.

_"You could have been mine."_ Sebastian continued to taunt. A scream cut through the air, and Blaine began to feel sick, knowing that Kurt was struggling and hurting. _"He's nothing but a bitch."_

That was the final straw, and Blaine pounced, claws out and jaw open wide, ready to latch on and not let go until the body he had a hold of stopped moving and breathing. But his opponent dodged out of the way and slashed him across the muzzle, knocking him to the ground. Blaine felt the blood begin to surface and ooze out of the sliced flesh, almost immediately congealing in his fur.

In another flash of claws and teeth, Blaine had Sebastian pinned to the ground, his teeth piercing the tender flesh of his belly.

_"Blaine."_ Sebastian whined. _"You wouldn't."_ He sounded weak, surprised, and Blaine saw - _fear_ - in his eyes.

Sirens sounded off from a distance, wailing and echoing through the neighborhood, and in mere seconds, flashing lights accompanied the noise. Blaine raised his head, momentarily distracted, giving Sebastian a chance to escape.

_"I knew you couldn't do it."_ He snarled. _"You're weak, Blaine."_ Then Sebastian ran to the others, urging them to vacate the area. Blaine's ears perked up, and he watched as they began to half-chase, half-pull Kurt along. He took up the chase, barreling after them.

They ran, moving swiftly through the small town, past its limits, not stopping until they arrived at the woods where the rain had not yet reached. Sometime in the midst of the struggle, Kurt had broken free, and was limping as he ran. Blaine kept the others in his view but honed in on Sebastian, who was now chasing after Kurt, intent on finishing him off personally.

Then Hunter crossed into Blaine's line of sight on his way toward Kurt, breaking his gaze on Sebastian, and Blaine bounded after him to pull him back. If he couldn't get right to Sebastian, he would take out the others in his way.

_"You're a traitor, Blaine."_ Hunter whined, feeling Blaine's jaw tighten around his throat, beginning to close off his air passages. _"We knew what you were doing. You weren't exactly subtle."_

Blaine unlatched his jaw and pinned Hunter, digging his claws into his side. _"Kurt never harmed anyone."_ He snarled. _"You hurt him, and now I'm going to kill you."_ Blaine barked.

_"It's too late, Blaine. He's in pieces, and we've won."_ He was struggling and short of breath.

Blaine threw Hunter to the side and bounded after Sebastian and Wes. He needed to get them away from Kurt, and he needed to do it now. Hunter was right, Kurt was losing this battle. He was outnumbered and growing weaker every second.

At the sight of Kurt's mangled body, Blaine's anger surged, and he rushed them with a blind rage. There were flashes of teeth and claws, fur and yelps until Blaine was standing there, his breathing labored, feeling like he was about to collapse. Sebastian, Hunter, and Wes all cowered away from Blaine, and Blaine was uncertain of what was happening. But he felt powerful, like he had never had so much control over himself and a situation.

_"This time."_ Sebastian huffed, panting heavily. _"This time you win. You're too strong for us, but your lover boy has already been disposed of. What a shame. Goodbye, Blaine."_

Blaine was still disoriented, but when he realized what had happened, he became alert again. Blaine won. Blaine had taken on the Alpha and the Beta, and he had won.

Blaine was an Alpha.

The three wolves lingered for only a moment longer before taking off. All of Blaine's attention went back to Kurt who was lying on the ground, a useless heap of a person, covered in dirt, saliva, blood, and paler than Blaine had ever seen him.

His stomach convulsed when he processed everything he was looking at. Kurt's one arm was ripped from its socket and dangling by almost nothing. He leg and chest were torn open, and he appeared to be barely conscious. Oh god, Blaine thought. He was going to lose Kurt. There was nothing he could do. Kurt was fading fast.

That was when Blaine rose his head and caught the scent of something that set him off and sent prickling heat that turned to ice through his body. Smoke. The woods around him were filling up with smoke, and he had no idea where the source was. His vision began to blur, and he realized that the pack had set the woods aflame to finish Kurt off and to burn Blaine alive.

Without further hesitation, Blaine gently latched onto Kurt's good arm and began to drag him quickly from the area, not sure which direction he was headed, but determined to get him out of there, to save him, if there was even a chance left.

He was severely grateful when he reached a stream, and he let go of Kurt's limp, ragged form, nudging him along toward the water until he was halfway in. This wasn't happening. It couldn't be happening. He couldn't lose Kurt. Not like this. Not ever.

Then he began to lick at the wounds, whining softly, pitifully with every lap of his tongue against Kurt's skin.

Kurt was unresponsive, and Blaine continued to lick his wounds, attempting to nurse him as if it would bring him back. Suddenly, Kurt began to move, but his eyes didn't open, and it wasn't as if Kurt was coming back to him. The nearly severed arm began to shift on its own, its movement serpentine, and Blaine's eyes widened. He stepped back slowly, but kept Kurt close and in his sight.

The gashes in Kurt's skin where Blaine had licked began to congeal and seal themselves up. It was the strangest thing to Blaine, and all he could do was stand there in shock and awe as Kurt's body seemed to be repairing itself.

And with a few cracks and then a groan filled with so much pain, Kurt was whole again. Blaine watched his chest rise as he took in air, and then fall slowly before he blinked open his eyes.

"You're still here," Kurt breathed.

_"Of course I am, Kurt -"_

"I thought I told you to get away...save yourself..."

_"I thought I had lost you. I thought you were dead."_ Blaine began to whimper again, but Kurt watched him with concern in his eyes. He lifted a hand to Blaine's muzzle, and the corner of his mouth turned upward slightly.

"You're not gonna lose me," Kurt said weakly, looking up into Blaine's eyes. "Ever."

Blaine huddled next to Kurt, resting his head heavily in his lap, and he trembled as he felt hot tears gather behind his eyes. And then laughter was bubbling up in Blaine, but it sounded as a bark. Kurt was alive. Somehow, he hadn't lost him, and he wouldn't lose him.

Then he lifted his head, nose pointed high toward the sky, and howled. Not a howl filled with anger. Not a howl filled filled with fear or lament. It was a victory howl, joyous and exultant.


	11. Chapter 10

They couldn't return to his cottage. Blaine was certain the pack would be there waiting for him, waiting to see if he would be so stupid, to see if he had survived. And he didn't want to give them the satisfaction of knowing.

He'd rather let them believe he had been consumed by the fire they had set.

Blaine coughed, expelling some of the smoke that had entered his lungs.

"Are you okay?" Kurt asked.

_"Yeah, I'm fine."_ Blaine wiped spit from his mouth against his foreleg and then turned his head and coughed again.

Blaine continued to huddle up against Kurt as Kurt regained strength. After a few moments, Kurt pulled himself up into a sitting position and ran his hand across Blaine's neck, combing his fingers through his thick mane, now matted in spots from saliva and blood, his own and others'. Blaine just wanted to be as close to Kurt as possible, and now that the fight was over, his body was overcome with exhaustion.

Blaine, still struggling from the smoke, broke away from Kurt, crawled on his belly toward the stream, and took a drink of the water, which cooled his mouth and sinuses, helping him breathe more freely.

He padded back over to Kurt and laid his head in his lap. Kurt sat there grinning fondly at Blaine, wondering why Blaine was so willing to make the sacrifices he did for Kurt. Then Blaine shifted back into human form, and, noticing marks, Kurt ran his thumb over Blaine's left cheek. There were three thick, slightly raised streaks of scar tissue obviously left by claws. His cuts had healed already, but the residual scarring of the tissue remained, the only evidence of the fight.

Blaine sighed at the touch and then pushed himself up on his hands and closed the gap between them. It wasn't a hungry kiss, it wasn't a kiss that was asking for something or wanting to lead to anything else. It was a kiss that said _I'm so in love with you_. It was a kiss that gave everything and took nothing, except for Kurt's breath. And when Blaine finally pulled away, Kurt looked as if he might cry had it been possible.

The rain picked up again, and cold, wet drops began to fall on them, but they remained seated on the ground that was gradually turning to mud and mush.

"What now?" Blaine finally spoke. "Where do we go from here?"

"We could go anywhere," Kurt answered. "I'm ready to leave this town behind, anyway. It's time."

"But what about us, Kurt? How are we going to last?"

"I don't know, Blaine."

"But do you want this? You want to keep doing this?"

"I've never wanted anything more."

And Blaine's heart felt so full that it began to ache in his chest. He pulled Kurt in for another kiss, and Kurt held him even closer, getting lost in it for a few moments before pulling away abruptly.

"They're not at your house right now. I read the area, and it's clear. You can hurry back and pack a bag. But you have to go now. Meet me back at my place."

Blaine wanted to protest, but he turned away, and with one last look back at Kurt, he shifted back into a wolf and raced toward the cottage through the rain.

-s-

The old wooden door creaked open, and Blaine shuffled into the room, making a beeline for his bed. He threw on an outfit, then leaned down and pulled out his bag and began stuffing it with the few outfits he owned. He reached under the bed to grab a few more things, and then paced the house a few times, making sure there wasn't anything he was overlooking. His eyes fell on a chest of drawers, the one his mother had once used, but he hadn't been in it in over two years. He couldn't remember if there was anything that had been left inside.

Giving in to his last-minute curiosity, Blaine slid open every drawer, three of the four coming up empty, but then he slid the bottom drawer open and caught sight of something laying flat inside the wooden bottom. He kneeled down to examine it more closely, and then reached down to pull out what appeared to be documents of some sort.

Once they were in his hands, they suddenly felt heavy, and, seeing that these documents weren't just any documents, a dread began to fill Blaine. His stomach flipped and his hands trembled as he lifted the envelope from the top of the stack and turned it over to lift the flap. Pulling out the slightly yellowed paper, Blaine unfolded it carefully and read from the hand-written letter.

His brow furrowed as he read, trying to make sense of it. The writing was his father's messy scrawl, at least, that's what he could gather from the signature at the bottom. But upon closer examination, anger began to flare up within him, and he nearly crinkled the paper in his hands. It was impossible. The letter was dated a few years after his father's death.

He didn't know what to think of it, and he didn't have much time, so he shoved the letter back in its envelope, snatched up a few things from the pile of documents, and stuffed them in his bag. After one final sweep of the small cottage, Blaine was off. He couldn't process any of this right now, he just needed to get back to Kurt.

-s-

"We need to be quick," Kurt said as he dug a few things out of his closet and then pulled some small boxes from under his bed. "Luckily, I don't own that much stuff." He unzipped his backpack and a duffle bag and began to fill them with his possessions, carefully folded garments, magazines, sheet music, and vinyls.

Blaine stood off to the side with his own rucksack filled and sitting on the ground by his feet. He watched as Kurt gathered up the last of his things, grabbed the straps of his bags, and then picked up a set of keys off of his desk.

"Let's go. Now, before I change my mind and just go to Dalton and rip Sebastian's throat out," Kurt said. He took in and let out a deep breath.

"Kurt," Blaine said softly. "Let's just get out of here." He lifted his own bag, shouldered the strap, and made his way up the stairs and out the front door, Kurt following close behind.

The Escalade was parked in the driveway, and Kurt hit the button on the key fob, unlocking the doors with two quick flashes of the headlights. Blaine climbed into the passenger side and threw his bag into the back, shutting the car door. He waited for Kurt as he quickly secured his bags in the trunk area and closed the tailgate with a click.

Blaine stared at his hands in his lap, and it all began to finally hit him. This was it. They were leaving, and they weren't coming back. It wasn't like he was leaving much behind, but it still felt odd and he felt a little sad to leave his home on the reservation, the only place he had ever known.

The driver side door slammed shut, and the seatbelt clicked.

"Are you ready?"

Blaine turned his head, and, as soon as his eyes met Kurt's, he knew the answer.

"Yeah."

Kurt started the ignition, shifted the SUV into gear, and began to back out of the driveway. And then they were pulling forward, heading off to the unknown.

Blaine stared out the window for a while, watching the neighborhood roll by until they were past its limits and driving along roads past long stretches of fields and farmland.

"This thing eats gas," Kurt finally spoke, stirring Blaine. "Luckily I still have a decent amount of funds from the past few years, so we might _just_ make it to our destination."

It suddenly occurred to Blaine that he really didn't know what their destination was.

"And where are we going?" Blaine asked.

Kurt shrugged. "I don't know. I was thinking I'd just keep driving until I couldn't drive anymore." He was quiet for a moment. "Have you ever seen the ocean, Blaine?"

"No. Never."

Kurt was quiet again, but he wore a smile on his face that made Blaine's stomach flutter.

"Let's see where life takes us, shall we?"

"Okay."

"Just okay?"

"More than okay. Perfect." And Blaine reached over to turn the radio on. It took a few tries and twists of the knob until he settled on a station.

"Katy Perry?" Kurt asked.

"I don't know. It's catchy. I've never heard music like this before."

"Then by all means indulge. I grant you permission to have full control over the radio while we're on the road. I don't mind."

"Thank you," Blaine said.

"You're welcome. Besides, I have always been fascinated by modern pop music. There's so much variation, and yet, it's all basically the same four chords." Kurt giggled, and Blaine grinned at the foreign sound. It was the first time he had seen Kurt so relaxed and...happy. Blaine knew then that Kurt was in his element when he was moving, because it must be the only thing he really knows how to do anymore. It was as if the world didn't want him, and if he kept leaving it behind, eventually it would forget who he was.

Then an incredible sadness overtook Blaine, and he turned his head to look out the window again.

"Aw, c'mon, Blaine. It's not that bad," Kurt said. "Change is a part of life. Minds change, hearts change, people change, and dreams change...People get left behind, forgotten. People lose people. And there's nothing anyone can do about it."

"Well, maybe there is," Blaine said quietly. He was glad that Kurt didn't question him further.

When they reached the highway, Blaine swallowed hard, but then leaned back and closed his eyes. He opened them a few times along the way before settling back again. The last thing he saw before losing consciousness was a sign that read:

Welcome to Indiana

Crossroads of America

-s-

Blaine blinked his eyes open and looked around, disoriented and wondering why he was strapped in. Then he heard the soft rumble of the highway beneath the wheels of the vehicle, and it all flooded back to him. With a yawn, he stretched the best he could and twisted around to look at Kurt who was still driving and showing no signs of fatigue.

But as he roused a bit more, the movement hit Blaine, and he desperately had to relieve himself. Once he did, he also knew that his stomach would begin an assault on him.

"I've already planned a stop in Omaha," Kurt said from reading Blaine's thoughts.

"Omaha? Like, Nebraska?" Blaine asked. That had to be at least eight hours from where he last remembered them being.

"You were out for a while, Blaine. Slept soundly, too," Kurt explained.

When they reached the city limits, it was almost as if this oasis had been erected in the middle of nowhere, rising up from the deserted prairie flatlands they had been traversing for much of their trip. Blaine stared in awe out the window as they rolled down the streets, along the river, past the foliage that lined the streets, and then they pulled into a gas station, and Kurt killed the engine.

Blaine wasted no time relieving himself, and when he got back to the car, he was surprised to find that Kurt had already grabbed some burgers for him, and he handed him the paper bag when he was back in his seat.

They continued on their way, and it hadn't yet occurred to Blaine that, although the Escalade was on full, Kurt himself was going to run out of fuel eventually. His eyes grew steadily darker as they drove on.

-s-

Blaine found it difficult to keep his eyes open, and he slept a lot along the way. But when the vehicle came to a stop along a desert highway, Blaine stirred and looked around to see that Kurt was gone.

He sat up, frantically searching the car until he looked out the back and saw Kurt standing off in the distance, staring at what, he couldn't figure it out. He watched him for a few moments before climbing out of the car and shuffling through the sandy earth, dried grasses crunching underneath his shoes with each step.

"What are you doing?" Blaine asked when he was right up behind Kurt.

"Be still for a moment. I need silence," Kurt whispered. Then his head turned ever so slightly, and a coyote howled somewhere in the area. Kurt's eyes were dark, and he licked his lips.

"No, Kurt," Blaine said firmly.

But he began to move swiftly toward the sound, and Blaine rushed to grab his arm, pulling him back toward him. Kurt looked angry as he swung around and stared darkly into Blaine's eyes.

"If that was what you needed, why didn't you just tell me?" Blaine said.

"Blaine, this is ridiculous -"

"No, Kurt, it's not."

"You're not going to be my personal blood bank that whenever I get thirsty I just go and drop a few coins in and out pops a drink from Blaine the vending machine! I don't want it to be that way, and I won't let it be that way."

"But why not? I told you before that that's what I want!"

"Because you're more than that to me, Blaine!" Kurt yelled. His chest heaved and he turned around, running a hand through his hair. "Can't you see you mean more than that to me?" he said brokenly.

"I'm so sorry," Blaine said, and he felt heat rise up in his face as tears welled in his eyes.

Kurt turned around and saw Blaine looking devastated, and he wrapped his arms around him and held him in a tight embrace. "It's okay. You didn't do anything wrong." But as Kurt spoke, the same hunger that was eating at him earlier while they were in the car together hit him full force. Blaine had been sleeping, and Kurt couldn't keep from looking over every few minutes, fighting the urge to wake him up or just have his way.

"I love you, Kurt," Blaine said through the tears now choking him up. "Is it so wrong to want to make sacrifices for someone?"

"I - " Kurt began, but Blaine was right. Relationships weren't clean and simple, and they were never equal. But all relationships were symbiotic in some sense. No longer able to hold back, Kurt pressed his lips to Blaine's and breathed in deeply. Then he trailed kisses down his jaw to his neck, slowly parted his lips, and then paused.

"Do it," Blaine spoke, barely a whisper and almost growl.

Kurt sank his teeth into Blaine's throat and was met with a hiss as Blaine sucked air through his clenched teeth. It stung for a moment, and Blaine felt tears escape the corners of his eyes, but he relaxed as Kurt pressed his tongue against his skin and began to drink. As soon as Kurt tasted Blaine's blood, he was high again, dizzy off of everything that was Blaine.

He drank until he was full, and Blaine remained strong the entire time, becoming slightly lightheaded which passed almost immediately. Kurt pulled off and ran his tongue across the wound like before, and then brought Blaine close to his body again, resting his head on his shoulder.

"I can't live with myself if I feel like I'm just taking and taking from you and never giving anything in return. Honestly, what do I have to offer you?" Kurt spoke hurriedly and quietly.

Blaine didn't miss a beat.

"Everything, Kurt. Life, love, experience...wisdom. And you've given me something far more valuable than anyone ever has. I never would have left that dingy little cottage. I would have spent my entire life moping around and living an absolutely unextraordinary life - barely living. Without you - " Blaine pulled away and took a step toward the car, and Kurt followed, confused. "Without you, Kurt, I never would have found it. Get in, and I'll show you."

Kurt obeyed, and climbed back into the Escalade, gazing curiously at Blaine who reached into the back and grabbed his bag before hopping back into the passenger seat. He pulled the envelopes out, and Kurt watched in intrigue.

"They're letters. From my father. He's not dead, Kurt. At least, he didn't die when my mother said he did." He pointed out the date and then handed it over to Kurt to read.

"Wow, I - I don't know what to say." Kurt continued to read the document.

Blaine looked down at his lap and picked up the second letter that he hadn't opened back at the house. Lifting it up, he noticed that this one was still sealed and wasn't addressed to his mother. It was addressed to him. He thought he was imagining it, but then he tore the letter open and pulled it out. The date was even more recent, right before his mother had died.

Blaine brought his hand up to cover his mouth as he read, eyes rapidly scanning and shifting left to right until he reached the end.

"He's -" Blaine stopped and shook his head, biting back tears.

"What is it?" Kurt asked, reaching a hand to place it on Blaine's shoulder.

"He was trying to protect me this entire time. I can't believe it. He didn't want me to turn out like him..."

"Does it say where he went?"

Blaine nodded, and Kurt squeezed his shoulder gently before letting go. Blaine looked down at the letter again before folding it back up and placing it back in his bag.

"We're headed to the coast, right?" Blaine asked.

Kurt nodded.

"Let's go, then."


	12. Chapter 11

Beads of sweat gathered on Blaine's skin and he brought his bottle of water up to his mouth to take a few sips. Replacing the cap, he turned to look at Kurt whose attention was still fixed on the gradually darkening sky. His skin was immersed in an orange, pink, and violet glow, and Blaine thought he looked even more beautiful than usual, framed by the palm trees along the road and bathed in the sunset.

From their seat on top of the vehicle that had miraculously carried them this far, they had a perfect view over the beach and across the vast expanse of ocean before them. The horizon was now clearly defined as the sun teetered on the edge before being gobbled up by the endless blue.

There were no fixed points, no defined limits, and the edges all blurred together. Much like the life the two were now facing.

Eternity was laid and stretched out before them.

"There's something I think I should tell you," Blaine finally spoke.

"What is it?" Kurt asked.

"I know how to remain immortal like you. As long as we stay together and I continue to shift, then I will stay like I am now...forever."

"And if you don't shift...?"

"Then my mortality will take over, and I'll continue to age like everyone else," Blaine explained.

"But you have a choice. And you want to stay with me, you want to be like me, like _this_, forever?" Kurt asked.

"Yes, I - I think I do."

"Listen to me, Blaine. It's not worth it. You don't know how much I envy you right now and always have. I'm not worth it. I want you to understand how valuable having a choice is, because I've lived so many lives now, that I'm not even a person anymore. You get to a point, and nothing really means anything," Kurt said. "There are things worth living for, worth fighting and hanging on for, please don't get me wrong, but it's the fact that those things are only temporary that makes them so valuable."

"I never thought about it that way."

"I'm not going to tell you what you should or shouldn't do, - that's not my place - but I want you to give it a lot of thought. Maybe you'll make a decision and then change your mind in the future, and that's okay. But don't think that you need to hang around or hang onto a miserable existence because of me. I love you, Blaine, I do. But I love you enough that, if and when the time comes, I can let you go."

"Are you going to leave me?" Blaine asked, suddenly feeling panic at Kurt's words. "Because I don't know what I'll do, and if you leave, then what choice do I really have?"

"Oh, no, Blaine. It's not like that at all." Kurt twisted around to face Blaine whose eyes were wide and shining in the twilight, anxious and fearful. He reached out slowly and set his hands on Blaine's right hand which was resting on his leg. And then something surged through him, and he lunged forward, wrapping his arms around Blaine's shoulders and resting his cheek against his chest. They held each other there in silence, Kurt taking in all of Blaine's warmth, until Kurt finally spoke again, his voice muffled as he shifted and rested his chin on Blaine's shoulder. "I'm not going to leave you. Even after all this time, goodbye has never been something I'm good at."

"I love you so much," Blaine said through a sniffle, his voice cracking with emotions he couldn't hold back.

The two boys separated after the drawn-out embrace. Blaine turned his head, tilting his face toward the sky, his eyes now fixed on the waxing moon in the distance. Kurt laid his head on Blaine's shoulder again and scooted in close until he was resting up against his side. And in that moment, as they gazed into the vast and limitless heavens, Kurt forgot. He forgot he was anything other than a young adult caught up in the tides of young love. He didn't think about what was, he didn't think about what was to come. He just breathed. He just was.

The soft rustle of the waves in the background and the chirping of the insects began to lull Blaine to sleep, and Kurt's breathing fell into sync with Blaine's waning breaths, but Kurt stayed awake as always, thinking and breathing in the night and the hypnotic incense of the boy beside him.

"Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow," Kurt said quietly. He laughed to himself, shaking his head, and then kissed the sleeping boy, the precious life beside him, on the top of his head and closed his eyes.


End file.
